


Tiger Got to Hunt, Bird Got to Fly

by pyrrhic_victoly



Series: Tiger Got to Hunt, Bird Got to Fly [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: (mostly) Canon Compliant, Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Changing Tenses, Character Study, Flashbacks, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrrhic_victoly/pseuds/pyrrhic_victoly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gin has secret diversions, and these, the games he plays with Aizen and Kira, have consequences.  They might be his downfall and he might be a fool, but at least he won’t be bored with the outcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Human, Nature

  
_Tiger got to hunt, bird got to fly;_  
Man got to sit and wonder 'why, why, why?'  
Tiger got to sleep, bird got to land;  
Man got to tell himself he understand.  
\- Kurt Vonnegut (Cat’s Cradle)

 

 

The knock sounded at his half-open door just as Gin finished packing his meager belongings.

“Door’s open, obviously. C’mon in.”

First came one blue eye, cautiously peeking through, then the other as the door slid open the rest of the way. Gin latched the suitcase closed as he watched Izuru slip into the room with a polite bow and a bright smile. There was the lightest hint of a blush forming on his cheeks as he fiddled nervously with the tie on his sash.

“Good evening. Sorry to intrude, Lieuten-- I mean, Captain Ichimaru.”

Gin smiled even wider as he heard Izuru carefully feeling his way around the words, around the new title.

“No need ta be so formal. We’re friends, ain’t we, Izuru?”

That fair skin flushed red when he leaned in much too close, ignoring all sense of personal space. Gin could hear that heartbeat quicken; could practically smell the fear and excitement coming from his prey. This reaction was always the best, and he grinned even wider at the thought. Only little Izuru was like this: frightened yet enthralled. He looked like he was trying to hide behind his bangs, but they weren’t nearly long enough for that. Gin took pity on him (because this prey was to be savored a little bit at a time) and pulled back.

“Was there somethin’ ya needed?”

“Oh! Ah... Congratulations on your captaincy! I’ll-- the Fifth will miss you.”

“Thank ya very much. I’d love ta hang ‘round an’ chat with ya, but they’re expecting me at the Third. Wouldn’t do for the guest of honor ta show up late...” His voice trailed off as he scanned the empty room.

There was one last thing: the neatly folded white haori. Gin snapped it open in one quick motion, exposing the emblem of his new division. He slipped it on as Izuru watched, eyes wide and Adam’s apple bobbing with soundless swallows. It was cute.

Gin chuckled as he brushed the young man’s bangs from his eyes. It seemed like Izuru really was growing them out. “Come visit sometime, ‘kay? Ya’ll always be welcome in the Third.”

 

* * *

 

Gin’s favorite pastime had always been people-watching. Humans and Shinigami were so much alike in their base impulses. Though they tried to shroud themselves in veils of nobility or intellectual pursuit, they were all the same at the lowest level. To fight, to fuck, to love... It was all any of them ever wanted no matter how much they pretended otherwise.

Perhaps that was why most people found his face disturbing. When they looked at him, they saw a smiling mask just like the ones they put over their hearts to lie to themselves about being something more than a fighting, fucking, loving animal - the scum of the earth.

The scum wanted to be special. How quaint.

It was so interesting to watch them struggle to become more; to put love above fighting and fucking, perhaps, or to place themselves above all three, as Aizen aimed to do. Aizen was... something else entirely. Something sinister, something grand. Someone to watch out for, someone worth playing games with. He watched the other man from under slitted eyes.

The teapot’s clink against the table was muffled by a coaster. Fragrant steam rose from the elegant ceramic cup set in front of him, curling toward the ceiling.

“Thanks,” he said, inhaling deeply into the cup held in both hands. He took a small sip. “New batch tonight. Jasmine?”

Aizen smiled with his usual gentle facade as he nursed his own cup. His kindness was so very fake. “As fond as I am of our usual green tea, I thought it was time for a change of pace.”

Ah, so fake, so fake! It was amazing how so few had seen through Aizen’s mask and his cryptic messages so far.

Two liars sat at the low table, their faces half-shrouded in the room’s dim glow, steam rising out of the cups in their hands. Here they danced - one who would be a god, and one whose sword was meant to slay the gods. The Fifth Division captain’s quarters were silent but for the far-off shuffles of the occasional guard on patrol. They drank their tea.

It was Aizen who broke the silence. He smiled again, indulgently, his eyes melting into oozing brown pools of disgusting sugary goodness as he gazed at Gin. It was as if he was thinking fondly on good memories or spoiling a beloved grandchild, though Gin was sure he was neither to the other man. “I’ve decided to keep just one of them on. And that will be Hinamori-kun,” he said. “Her... _single-minded_ brand of loyalty will be much more useful to me than Kira-kun’s dutiful type.”

What lay thick in the silence was, "I will be her everything. I will be her god," but Gin heard it well enough. It was a pity, he thought, that Aizen had to go and make his pet girly so dull. Aizen had lots of ideas that made life interesting, but this wasn’t one of them. Hinamori wasn’t very fun. Broken dolls in general weren’t very fun.

Well, to each his own.

“Ah, so that’s why ya transferred Izuru to the Fourth. I was s’prised to see him runnin’ errands with ‘em this morning.”

“He asked for the transfer.”

“Really.”

“I may have dropped a few hints. After all, we wouldn’t want such close friends to have to compete against each other for future promotions, would we? It would be bad for the squad’s morale.”

“Why the Fourth, hmm? Izuru ain’t gonna last there. Even if he don’t like ta fight, he’s too much of a fighter, too proud, got too much ta prove.”

What he didn’t say was, “Izuru’s a good kid. If ya ain’t got a use for him no more, why ya gotta break him like that?” When they had ditched Abarai, the stray dog got to scurry off to the Eleventh, free from their reins. Couldn’t they let Izuru go, too?

But of course they couldn’t. The spider that let the pretty butterflies get away would go hungry and die. Gin would never voice these thoughts, though of course Aizen heard them just fine.

Across from him, Aizen snorted. It was a nearly imperceptible sound, but showed much more of what he was truly thinking than this faux politeness. “Ah, yes... That pride of his is a bit of a problem. He was the highest scoring student on the entrance exam that year, wasn’t he? Quite a prodigy in kido, and he came out of the academy with top marks in all subjects, too. Perhaps cleaning the sewers will teach our valedictorian some...humility. A good character-building exercise, wouldn’t you say so?”

“I see.”

Gin couldn’t stop his smile from slipping for just a second. It was a tiny momentary lapse of control. Anyone else would have missed it, but not Aizen, whose eyes narrowed behind his glasses at the confirmation of one more of Gin’s few weaknesses.

“Rest assured, Kira-kun will transfer to your division. It may take a while with his stubbornness, but he’ll go running to you eventually. When I asked if he had a preference of divisions for the transfer, it was all he could do not to blurt out, ‘Third’. Perhaps his pride forced him to remain silent for fear of appearing desperate, hmm? He’s always been so fond of you.”

“Well that’s good ta know. But I s’pose it might’ve also been possible that he didn’t expect ya’d punish him with that kinda transfer when he’s always done good work.”

Aizen ignored Gin’s words and continued on. "Do you think you can make use of the boy?"

“Hmm...”

“Will you twist his affections? Mold him to suit our purposes?”

The gleam that entered Aizen’s eyes at that inquiry was apparent even through the thick lenses. It was quite perfectly said, from one predator to another, each spider tangled in the other’s webs. It was a test of Gin’s brutality rather than Izuru’s loyalty. Aizen had said, in a sense, “I let your big-breasted tramp of a girlfriend go. Now prove to me you’ve got the balls to rope this little butterfly in.” He sipped his tea and pondered the choice. Or lack thereof.

“Maybe I’ll give it a try.”

“Of course you will, Gin.” _I expect no less from my eternal lieutenant._ Aizen’s tone brooked no arguments.

Of course he would. He’d just do it in his own way. It wasn’t exactly like he was disobeying Aizen’s orders. Because Gin wasn’t so disrespectful as to do that, was he? Saa, people were just too unpredictable when it came to things like love and inner strength. How could Gin be expected to have predicted that such a gloomy boy would be able to hold up so well on his own? Oh yes, Izuru was fun, and he was going to stay that way.

“Thank you for the tea, Captain.”

“Please, there’s no need for such formalities. You’re a captain as well, now.”

Setting aside his cup, he bowed and left the room.


	2. Drag Your Chains, Wretched One

Clutching a brown paper bag in his hands, Kira shuffled nervously from foot to foot as he waited to be let into Captain Hitsugaya’s office. He had been greeted by a sour-faced woman who looked him up and down, glaring distrustfully at his package before heading off down a darkened corridor to check with her superiors. It was his second-to-last delivery for the day, and he was anxious to finish this task. The heavy box that he had started with had been discarded along the way; now all that was left was this and the goods for the Third, which were few enough that he could carry them all within the medkit strapped to his back.

The Sixth and Ninth Divisions had required extra bandages and first aid kits - a refill of standard emergency equipment. The Second had received a small box filled with vials of what Kira could only assume were tranquilizers and paralyzing agents, and hopefully not poisons of some sort. Captain Ukitake of the Thirteenth Division had requested more of his usual herbal cough remedy; it was delivered to two of his officers who shouted over each other about who got the honor of serving the captain his afternoon tea.

Kira remembered being trapped between them as they attempted to scream into each other’s faces. He’d pushed ineffectively against them, but they kept crowding in! Being smashed uncomfortably against the hard chest of the very loud man and the soft breasts of the very loud girl was awkward. It was even more awkward than the time he had tripped and landed with both palms cupping Hinamori’s assets and been slapped into next week.

“I’M MORE DEVOTED TO THE CAPTAIN THAN YOU ARE!”

“LIES! NO ONE IS MORE DEVOTED TO THE CAPTAIN THAN ME!”

“BUT I AM!”

“NO, I AM!”

“I AM!”

“GIVE ME THE TEA!”

“NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS!”

Their shouts had blasted into his ears accompanied with spittle and slight halitosis. If Lieutenant Shiba hadn’t rescued him at that point, he swore he would have gone deaf. It didn’t help that the part of his mind that was still stuck in Iemura-san’s astoundingly boring lecture yesterday chimed in while his ears were still ringing and said, _“Tinnitus: the perception of sound within the human ear in the absence of corresponding external sound.”_

As it was, he came out frazzled but largely unharmed. The resulting headache followed Kira into the Tenth Division, where he had been instructed to personally hand over this mysterious prescription.

Captain Hitsugaya had only just been appointed, so Kira hadn’t seen him up close yet. Despite being Hinamori’s childhood friend, he was reluctant to come out and socialize with her peers, and Kira himself was too reserved to push for a meeting outside of work.

It was said that Hitsugaya was the greatest child prodigy in the history of Soul Society, surpassing Lieutenant Shiba Kaien and perhaps even Captain Ichimaru Gin, because the previous prodigies hadn’t possessed the charisma or leadership of a captain at such an age. It was frightening, in a way, to be faced with such a man. If any of the captains could be considered “monsters”, as Abarai had once called them, then Kira thought it would be Hitsugaya.

“--to the left.”

“Uh... Huh?” Kira snapped up to see the disapproving look on the officer’s face. Heated shame came up from under his collar and crept towards his cheeks; her dour expression tightened as she noticed his uncertainty.

“What is it?” she snapped.

“S-sorry, ma’am. Could you repeat that?”

“Captain Hitsugaya confirmed,” she said, carefully stressing each word as if speaking to a particularly slow child, “that he was expecting a delivery... You may go in. Down the hall and to the left. Understand?”

“...Er, yes, of course. Thank you.”

As Kira proceeded down the hall, he focused his attention on finding the captain’s office and pretended not to hear the mumbled slurs against his intelligence.

The captain’s office was easy to find since it was the only office down this bend in the hall; the doors were large and imposing enough that it would be difficult to mistake this room for anything else. Kira raised one hand to knock, but before his knuckles could graze the wood, Captain Hitsugaya’s gruff voice rang out.

“Come in!”

“Yes, sir!” Kira pushed the door open and made his way to the desk. Captain Hitsugaya was, for lack of a better word... small. He’d heard the rumors, of course, and seen the young captain from afar. It was a different thing entirely to stand next to such a short-statured boy-- ah, man. Kira hoped that nothing untoward showed in his face as he bowed and presented his package. “From Captain Unohana, sir. She requested that I hand this to you in person.”

Hitsugaya grabbed the bag, peered inside, and grunted his approval. “You... Unohana has sworn you to secrecy, right?” He narrowed his eyes with a suspicious frown.

“I’m sorry, sir? Captain Unohana didn’t tell me anything other than to give this to you.”

“So you... haven’t looked inside.”

“No! You have my word, Captain Hitsugaya!” Kira fought back the urge to fiddle with his sash or his sword like he often did when he was nervous. The captain’s cool demeanor was unnerving, though Kira now understood why he was so loved by his division: he was extremely serious. An adult mind in a child’s body. As such, he must be worried about his reputation, and perhaps about any teasing he might receive if he were to have a “child’s” medical condition. Kira’s shoulders relaxed as he came to this realization, and he spoke in his best imitation of a soothing voice. “You can trust me, sir. It is my oath as a healer to uphold patient confidentiality.”

This was true, though somewhere in the back of Kira’s mind, he thought it might be fun to take a peek at whatever it was that made such a revered prodigy twitchy with paranoia. His impish side was betting that it would be a growth serum of some sort; a potion for Captain Hitsugaya to take with his daily glass of milk.

But he tamped down on those thoughts before anything could come of it.

That was just one of the many things he had been struggling with recently. Kira had always known that it was improper for him, as the heir of a noble clan, no matter how minor, to indulge in such whims. He ought to be cultured and calm, not skittish and mischievous as he had been in his youth.

Captain Hitsugaya nodded in thanks. This was Kira’s cue to leave, and he did so with as much grace as he could muster.

 

* * *

 

 

He stumbled into her office covered in mud.

Unohana was completely in her own league when it came to intimidation tactics. She gave him a disappointed look, and that was all that was needed to cow him. Third seat Iemura, who wasn’t even being admonished, also shrank back in fear at their captain’s overly motherly tone - the one that meant “You’re in deep trouble, young man.”

“This is unlike you, Kira-kun. I understand that you were once a member of a combat squad, but you belong to the Fourth now. As such, you cannot continue to engage in such violent behavior. This is the third time this week that you have been in a fight, and I fear that if you continue, you will shame all of us. As punishment, you’ll be placed on janitorial duty on top of your regular shifts until you prove to me that you can control yourself.”

So that was how he’d ended up doing overtime. He was on his hands and knees in the sewers under the Research Institute, scrubbing who knows _what_ off the unforgiving stone where the toxic gunk had splattered after being dumped down a manhole. He was sure that natural substances were not supposed to glow in that particular shade of purple.

Afterwards, Kira finally managed to stumble back to his modest quarters. He’d barely closed the door behind him before flopping down on his futon. Funny, that... It was the first time he hadn’t managed to roll up and put away his futon in the morning. With a bitter chuckle, Kira admonished himself for getting too lax with cleaning his room. Yes, it was absolutely hilarious because the reason for his negligence was that he was too busy cleaning everyone else’s rooms.

His body ached in all the wrong places. It should have been his arms and legs that throbbed with a dull warmth after hours of running and swinging the familiar weight of his sword; hours of blocking and parrying and frenzied footwork. It should have been his palms that tingled like they always did when he did too many kidō spells in a row, because he was forcing too much energy to course through them. But it wasn’t.

His back ached from continuously stooping down to lift boxes of medical supplies. Lift and carry, lift and carry... And his head ached; his temples felt like they were about to burst with seething anger just at the thought of those Eleventh Division brutes and their condescending laughter, especially when he damn well knew that he could take most of them down without even breaking a sweat. He wanted to prove himself to them, and yet he wasn’t allowed to.

The only recourse he and his fellow healers had when confronted with bullies was to run away. That was what most of them did: they fled for the sewers and secret passageways. But fleeing from battle left a bad taste in Kira’s mouth. It brought up too many memories of his first year at the academy, when he had stood still, frozen with indecision as his classmates were attacked. The knowledge that he had almost run away back then festered within him, and brought with it endless waves of guilt and shame.

His atonement was to stand his ground. No, he would not flee. Let them come at him with their punches, their kicks. He would block them all. And when he couldn’t defend anymore, when they left him kneeling in the dirt and blood, he would pick himself up and trudge back to his division where Captain Unohana would shake her head at him and sigh.

Kira had never been one for breaking the rules. He had never been the troublemaker among his group of friends. So. He was a member of the Fourth now, and he would abide by their protocols, if in an unorthodox way. That was what he thought.

It was just that... he couldn’t seem to let go. While healing held its merits, Kira was convinced that he was made for battle, and it stung to know that his entire career, his life ever after, all the boyish hopes and dreams he’d secretly whispered to his parents’ graves about maybe making lieutenant, or even _captain_ someday... They had all amounted to nothing.

He had been delusional.

Sometimes, as if confirming his most secret fears, Wabisuke would whisper to him that it was his fault things had ended up this way. It was his fault that he hadn’t done a good enough job as a Shinigami in a respected combat squad, which was why Captain Aizen had kindly kicked him out, and it was his fault that he wasn’t a good enough healer, either. He was worthless. Humiliation was all he would get to look forward to in the days to come. How could he face any of his old friends like this? How could he speak to Hinamori, who had done things right and retained Captain Aizen’s favor? Or Abarai, who had made new friends in the Eleventh? How could that not be awkward, to tell his best friend that he was willingly being beaten up every day those same “new friends” of his?

It was even more frustrating knowing that he didn’t have the right to be angry at anyone other than himself. Kira had never been the most social man, but he’d had his two best friends by his side. He’d had his stupid pride at insignificant accomplishments, and his stupid happiness whenever he was praised.

_You’re such a good boy. You're such a good student. You're such a promising young Shinigami._

Was it so bad to like being praised? Now, at times he just wanted to hide behind his hair, shrink inside his uniform, disappear, give up... Kira realized that he’d been doing just that: acting like a spoiled noble who didn’t get his way. How painful it was, to know that he was sulking just because his overblown ego had been popped.

Thinking on his own failures was making him even more miserable, if that was possible. Kira rolled over, still fully dressed, and buried his head into the pillow with a groan. He didn’t know when he drifted off, just that there was a heavy haze settling over his whole body. Poison, numbing his limbs, and a smile against his ear.

_Tha’s good, Izuru. I'm glad you're doin' well..._


	3. The Wall

**Kyoto, 1864**

The son of a sickly whore rubs his skinny hands together. The sticky August heat has given way to cool evening breezes, but the boy is not glad for this respite. He is cold, so cold that at times it feels as if his heart is made of ice and steel.

His patched up pockets jingle with the satisfying weight of three whole strings of copper coins. Perhaps there is enough in there to exchange for a silver; perhaps there is enough for them to indulge in three square meals tomorrow with enough left to purchase sweets and a new comb to put in his mother’s hair so that she feels beautiful again. There is hope. The moon shines brightly here in the outskirts. He shields his squinted eyes at that beautiful, faraway light, and for a single desperate moment, the world disappears.

The walled city is walled no more. There is no palace, no emperor, no nobles, no castes. And because of that, there are no outcastes - those untouchables such as he.

Tomorrow, he thinks, tomorrow he and his mother will start a new life. He looks out toward the line of trees from which the silvery moon rose, and he smiles. There is a river beyond the forest, and a settlement along its banks. _Burakumin_ , some call them. Or _eta_ , the mass of filth. When his preparations are done, he and his mother will be welcome there among the butchers, leatherworkers, executioners and coffin makers whom society has deemed to be too tainted by death to have a place among the living.

It’s a good thing that he ran into that ronin, or he wouldn’t have known about the village of outcastes, and he wouldn’t have gotten such nice blades as a gift. The katana will fetch a good price if he can find the right buyer, and the wakizashi... He wipes off the short sword and sheathes it.

The boy turns his smile down toward the blood-spattered ground. “Thanks,” he says to his patron.

The corpse at his feet does not respond.

 

-oOo-

 

Streetlights come into view as he nears the more heavily occupied sectors of the capital. He scurries through the back alleys and stashes the katana behind a crumbling wall; the wakizashi goes into the tattered folds of his clothes, secured at his waist, concealed. He slinks his way deeper into the slums.

“Have I told you about when I was a maiko?” asks the whore standing by the gate to Shimabara district. “I know the dances,” she says, waving her arms dreamily. “I lived in Gion district back then, ya know. An’ worked inna fancy tea house with the others in the geiko community. Samurai would come from Osaka an’ Edo an’ everywhere else ta see us dance, an’ they’d call us _geisha_ , all proper-like in their funny Edo accent... Mama would give us new kimono when we graduated, but I never did. No, I never did, because I had a baby boy... Ain’t no boys allowed in there, so I had to leave...”

The boy interrupts her reverie with a tug on her sleeve. The embroidered brocade of her kimono is faded and graying. There is dirt underneath her cracked fingernails, he notes as he slips his tiny hand in hers. With her borrowed warmth radiating from their connected palms, his heart thaws just enough for him to smile with genuine happiness.

“No more customers t’night, mom. Ya said we’d get up early t’morrow to go shoppin’.” He smiles brightly at the woman and steers her away from the lamps of the red light district.

She pats his head and cheeks, and ruffles the fine strands of his hair. Her eyes are sad every time she notices that his eyes are blue. “You’re such a good boy, Gin. Such a good boy...”

He is a good boy, isn’t he? He never complains that they don’t have enough to eat, or that he’s always cold. He is cheerful and respectful when he ought to be. And if, sometimes, the drunkards who buy his mother mysteriously go missing, it has nothing to do with him. Nothing to do with the bruising on her wrists and the secret flash in his blue eyes that he never lets her see. No, nothing to do with that at all, because Gin is a good boy.

Tonight, his mother is quieter than usual, but even though she doesn’t go on with her customary rambling, the speech plays out all on its own in Gin’s mind. “You’d have made a gorgeous geiko, Gin. The nobles would come from all corners of the world to call on ya. Just look at ya... Skin so white you’d hardly have ta put any powder on. I’d teach ya how to drive th’ men wild. Tease ‘em, but leave ‘em high and dry, wantin’ more.”

And he’d say, “Yeah, it’d be nice if boys could be geiko too.”

And in one of her rare moments of clarity, she would laugh while unshed tears glittered at the corners of her eyes.

 

 -oOo-

 

The katana gets him a small handful of silver, half of which were stolen from the dealer’s pockets when he wasn’t looking. Gin thinks it’s good enough, and he smiles in satisfaction as he stashes this latest gain with the rest of his secret savings.

Just a little bit more... Just a little bit more... He shifts fallen bricks back over his hiding place behind the crumbled wall and scurries over to pick up his mother.

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

What he had thought was celebratory shouting are actually the sounds of battle. The smoky smell of roasting meat that wafts from the various inns has gradually been replaced with a far more acrid burning, and Gin curses himself for not having noticed.

Fire! There is fire everywhere! Kyoto is under siege!

He rushes out onto the street to see the palace gate in flames off in the distance. Soldiers stomp past, and civilians scream and lock themselves in their houses or make for the outer city gates. Gin scurries between the shadows, ducking and dodging, still trying to reach his mother, but navigating the battlefield is difficult, especially when downed combatants are knocking over torches and inadvertently setting everything on fire.

At Shimabara’s gate, there is panicking. A wooden beam crashes down into a tea house, sending splinters and shards of pottery flying outward. Whores and brothel patrons flee like ants. Some are on fire; some are desperately throwing buckets of water into the inferno to no avail. Gin sprints forth and grabs his mother’s hand, tugging her out of the way.

She stumbles, waves her dirtied sleeves and says, “There’s my beautiful baby boy... There ya are, there ya are... Lookit here, isn’t the fire festival jus’ so beautiful? So pretty. So pretty just like you, my baby.”

“We dun ‘ave time fer this!”

She babbles, twirls, and laughs as they’re jostled down the streets by the fleeing mob. “Hurry up! Out of the way, out of the way!” the faceless masses scream. Their shouts reach a fevered pitch. Gin has never heard such screaming in his short life, but his instincts are good and he knows that there’s danger coming from up the road.

Sure enough, he’s right. Behind them, soldiers cut a bloody swath through the stragglers in their haste to retreat. The survivors of whichever side of the conflict had lost are quickly pushing through the crowd with their blades. Gin tugs at his mother’s hand again.

“This way,” he says, but it’s too late.

“Hello there, handsome. Wouldja like some company t’night?” She plasters herself over a frightened soldier.

“Get off, crazy woman!”

In the next moment, two blades are simultaneously drawn. One slices the whore’s head clean off her neck, and the other plunges into the soldier’s heart from behind.

There’s another plunge, and another, but the reality of the situation doesn’t quite register. There’s another body on the ground, and another. A katana dropped here, and another there. From the corner of his eye, Gin sees a short sword flashing as it strikes, far more deadly than its size would suggest.

“Shit, this kid’s gone insane! Take ‘im down!”

The coldness in his veins creeps up toward his heart. Numbness follows it even as he feels the steel slide all the way through him and he slumps into a sea of blood, his mother’s dreamy voice sliding in and out with consciousness...

_Lookit ya, so pretty, my baby boy. The blood makes yer eyes stand out._

...His mother’s severed head lying just out of arm’s reach...

He doesn’t know how much time passes as he lays there, face down in the crimson tide. He doesn’t know if the flames consume him or not. None of that really matters, because at least his mother isn’t suffering anymore. Gin doesn’t believe in heaven, but for her, he wishes the stories are true. She is free now, to find the happiness that he couldn’t give her.

It’s enough to let him go in peace.

 

 -oOo-

 

When he wakes up that first time, it’s to the sun above, to God’s bright eye, all-seeing and unforgiving. The sun hangs alone in the cloudless sky. Gin’s fingers grasp a handful of parched, sandy earth as he pushes himself up to take his first look around his new home in outer Rukongai.

Barren. No people. No animals. The trees are brittle, their branches cracked, and whatever fruit might have once grown on them had long since shriveled under the intense dry heat.

Could it be that he needed to repent in order to reach heaven, perhaps? That this was the “purgatory” that foreigners such as his unknown father sometimes spoke of? But no, it couldn’t be. Those like him, who not only lied, stole, and murdered on a whim, but also rejected the very notion of salvation... No. It was clear from what the preachers said that someone like him was supposed to be doomed to an eternity of pain and suffering. Burning in a pit of lava, or something like that.

But far, far away in the distance, he sees the outlines of ivory towers, glimmering like a mirage. As he makes his way toward the white walls, he comes across others, and he asks them about the shining towers. They tell him that it’s a sacred place, a palace for pure souls.

He would have believed them if he hadn’t met her along the way, too. Pure souls, was it? And what about the innocents? What about his mother, and now this unfortunate girl? They had never done anything wrong. What _right_ did those men have to take things from them and then toss them out like yesterday’s trash?

The world had disappeared, but in the new one that sprung up in its place there was still a palace, and where there was a palace, there would be an emperor, and nobles, and castes. The rich still abused their power. The wall was still there, and Gin was still on the other side of paradise, his hand twined protectively around another’s. Funny, that. It seemed that death really hadn’t changed anything; not even Gin, who, with a wry smile, chuckled to himself at how much of a hopeless romantic he was, with his strange weakness for women’s tears.

It really made no sense, but it gave him a sense of purpose. One day, he said, they would live in a world where she would want for nothing. No more hunger. No more tears. Her goodness and beauty would shine out for all to see, and no one could say that, just because she had been born of low status, she was not a pure soul in every way.

Because she was. Rangiku was lovely and warm, even though at times she was as sad as lingering graveyard ashes. And even though she didn’t remember what had been done to her, he promised to himself that from now on, no one would ever violate her again. This time he would make it so.

Gin looked toward the wall, the thin slits of his eyes doing little to ward off the sun’s harsh glare. A gleeful part of his heart gave an excited little skip at the thought of seeing all those pretty white stones come tumbling down.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He woke again, this time within the walls.

He was lying sprawled out on a stone bench, basking in the heat of the sun’s afternoon rays, his head nestled in someone’s lap. Muffled voices drifted over from the academy where his captain was holding his weekly calligraphy class. Of course a captain who was so perfect would have a perfectly loyal lieutenant - one who tagged along even though he had no knowledge or interest in calligraphy. Lieutenant Ichimaru just couldn’t _bear_ to be parted from his most beloved captain for so long. How _painful_ it would be for him to be parted from the man he’d set his sights on; his aspiration and his goal.

Gin blinked up at the owner of his borrowed pillow. “Heya, Izuru. Ya finished another poem?”

“Oh, um, yes. It’s about the moon.”

“When it’s not even out yet?”

“It’s out there,” Izuru said, loosening the collar of his blue uniform. “I can see it clearer than the sun.”

Gin watched in amusement as a light pink flush started creeping up Izuru’s neck to settle on his cheeks as he realized what he’d just said. It was followed by a lot of nervous sputtering and ‘that’s-not-it’ and ‘I-didn’t-mean-it-that-way’ and ‘it’s-not-what-you’re-thinking-if-that’s-what-you’re-thinking’.

Gin just laughed and brought his arms up to wrap around his pillow, burrowing deeper. “Writin’ about the moon in broad daylight, huh. How bold. The sun might get mad at ya, though.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind.” Izuru’s reply was quick and breathless. It was also exactly what Gin wanted to hear.

“Good. Wake me up when class is over, would ya?”

Izuru’s only response was a soft sound of acknowledgement. Perhaps he had nodded, but Gin couldn’t tell with his eyes fully closed again. There would be time later for more lies, more masks. For “Yes, Captain Aizen, he’s loyal to ya. All three of ‘em are fine. No problems at all. Let’s recruit ‘em all.” Nope, no problems.

In his dreams, towers crumbled and the moon blocked out the sun. He dreamt of total eclipse; the end of days. And of rebirth, too. He dreamt of golden flowers rising above the ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 1864 Great Fire of Kyoto is an actual historical event. I thought it fit the timeline to have Gin die there.


	4. The Cage

Izuru hated events like this. His formal kimonos were always uncomfortably warm, which made him sweat and fidget with his sleeves or his sash, and _that_ always earned him a hushed admonishment from his aunt.

"Izuru," she hissed, yanking his arm back into the proper position by his side. "Stop fidgeting!"

Aunt Michiko went on to lecture him about how, as heir to their clan, Izuru ought to take this opportunity to mingle with the other children of the nobility because it was never too early to start making family alliances - he'd heard it all before. Izuru listened with half an ear, nodded at the appropriate times, and let his attention drift off toward finding adventure.

There weren't all that many noble children he could even stand to be around, and the ones that he knew of still seemed... boring, to say the least. Their ambitions lay in politics and courtly games; their dreams were mostly of marrying up, settling down, and having more noble children. Or perhaps, for the more ambitious, of one day joining the ranks of Central 46.

Izuru was known to them as a dreamer, and sometimes they still teased him for what he had said years ago about one day being a captain in the Gotei 13. From that day on, he had been careful not to tell others about his unconventional interests and hobbies. He kept it secret that his love of nature was not merely for its inspirational effect on poetry, but also because he loved to examine everything there was in the outside world. He didn't dare tell anyone what he was really thinking of when he had one of his bouts of introspection. The crush of bark underneath his palms, the scent of rich loam after the rains, and even the rare grotesque centipedes as they scuttled away in the dark. He was fascinated by the movements of their jointed legs. He was curious about how everything came to be, and how it all fit together.

This sort of curiosity was something they - his family and peers - wouldn't understand. As such, Izuru didn't have much to talk about with them beyond the standard platitudes, and when he had nothing to say, he was very quiet. And when he was very quiet, they thought he was the boring one, which... maybe he was. But did it matter? They already thought he was weird anyway.

It wasn't that he was unpopular - far from it! There were, of course, other young nobles who wished to become shinigami. Among those, Izuru was known to be a promising candidate, and someone to associate with. Girls of the lesser nobility were told to allow him to court them if they wished to have a husband with military connections in the future. Despite being an orphan, he had good pedigree. He was smart, he was spiritually strong, he had a small plot of family land, and there was nothing too objectionable about him in the way of looks or personality. There was nothing to complain about as far as his marriage prospects went, never mind the fact that Izuru thought it was at least a hundred years too early for him to be thinking about marriage.

Perhaps it was only to Izuru that these interactions felt empty and somewhat insincere.

"-Kuchiki Byakuya. Are you listening?"

"Yes ma'am."

"You do so well among your peers; it's the least you could do to use that charm to get into Kuchiki's good graces. He's not all that much older than you, and you are aiming for a position in the Gotei 13 as well, so there will be much for you two to talk about. You must try to arrange a meeting, at least. Everyone will be expecting you to show an interest in his career, and if all goes well, it will be a boost for yours as well."

He nodded, waited for her to turn away, and then promptly headed in the opposite direction. He had already sent his paltry birthday gift along with a note of congratulations. There was really no need to fight through the mob just for the right to kiss Kuchiki's feet. After all, the chances of someone from such a minor house such as his getting the blessings of the Kuchiki family? It was not even worth mentioning. Izuru himself wasn't even worth mentioning at this point, seeing as he had yet to work up the courage to apply for the academy.

Sighing, Izuru made his way to what he hoped would be a secluded corner of the garden. It was near the wall, at the edgemost part of the Kuchiki grounds, where bamboo and reeds were perfectly trimmed to a facade of artful wildness around a tranquil pond. Here, perhaps he could climb a tree or catch a rare spirit-insect without being scolded for impropriety. He picked up his pace, aiming for the overgrown stone bench that he would claim as his own for the next few hours.

But... As Izuru approached, he noticed that there was already someone there, lying on the bench, his arm dangling over the side to brush teasingly against the grass. He was tall and slim, and his hair a soft shade of silver. Though his features were sharp, there was something about the child-like mischief in those half-lidded eyes and a subtle roundness of cheek that belied his true age, though age was hard to tell when it was relative to one's maturity of spiritual power. He could have been anywhere from a few years to a few decades older than Izuru himself.

It was still as good a spot as any, Izuru decided. "Hello," he greeted the stranger.

"Hello yourself," the stranger said. He spoke in a soft, lilting accent that Izuru found to be pleasantly intriguing, for he had never heard such a thing.

"I hope I'm not bothering you, sir. Would you mind if I sat here?"

"Nah, please, go right ahead." Bony hands gave a flippant wave to the other side of the bench.

"Thank you."

"Ya bored, too?"

Izuru smiled sheepishly. "A little bit, yes."

"Only a little? I've only been here an hour and I've had enough of this to last a lifetime."

"Yes, these events are quite tedious to attend, aren't they? But one gets used to them over time."

"If you've had to attend so many that ya got used to 'em, then I sure pity ya."

"Ah, well, you find ways to entertain yourself..."

"True, true. S'great for people-watchin'. That Lord Fancy-Hat and that Lord Pointy-Beard, for example," he said, pointing to a pair underneath the edgemost cherry tree. "They look kinda friendly, but they're gonna stab each other in the back real soon."

Izuru frowned, though he didn't know if it was out of horror of such an accusation or mere confusion. He felt like he ought to be affronted, as Aunt Michiko would have been. And yet... He couldn't help but want to know more. "How can you say that?"

"Because nobles are weird like that," the young man said with a shrug. "They gotta make pointless small talk ev'ry time they meet. Gotta give gifts to their enemies and cut down their friends if they wanna make it to the top. Just lookit those two. Their smiles're all fakes."

"While that is perhaps true, isn't it a strange thing to say when you must also be... I mean, um, your smiling must also... As a noble aren't you also..."

"Pfft!"

Izuru's stuttering was interrupted by a hastily covered laugh. The shinigami bit his lip to keep from laughing too loudly, though he couldn't keep in the breathy chuckles and shaking shoulders. He felt slightly miffed that he was being laughed at, and he flushed with embarrassment.

...Apparently, he was being laughed at so hard that the other man now had to hold a hand over his own mouth while tears were starting to form at the corners of his eyes. Izuru felt his blood run cold with the sting of rejection, and he got up to leave. "Excuse me, then. I'm afraid I must be going."

Before he could take his first step, the shinigami quickly shifted into a sitting position, and his arm shot out to take hold of Izuru's. "Please don't go. I like ya."

In contrast to how he had been speaking before, this voice was sincere. Izuru didn't think he could refuse, never mind maintain the proper amount of calm and distance he had been taught to show when dealing with those of lower status. He especially didn't think he could deal with that slender hand gently gripping his wrist and tugging him back down. That, coupled with such a strangely casual declaration echoing in his mind non-stop. _I like ya. I like ya._

"You're a funny one. Didja really think I was a noble?"

Izuru took in a shaky breath as he sat again. "Well, I... I don't think I've ever met anyone who wasn't... And there's no reason for you to be here if you're not..." he managed to squeak out.

"Lotsa important people here today. Kuchiki's bein' groomed to be a captain someday, so the higher ups in the Gotei 13 are payin' special attention to 'im. I tagged along with my captain, that's why I'm here." He shifted so that the badge around his upper left arm was now clearly visible.

"Oh." Izuru's mouth hung slack around that one syllable. A nervous sort of awe began filling up his belly at the thought of meeting a lieutenant who was a commoner, and still so young. How skilled someone like that must be! He nearly trembled from the excitement.

"Aren't ya supposed to look down your nose at me right about now?"

"Um..." The words had left him. His throat felt dry. "I... I am? M-maybe?"

"But you're not."

"Um... no?"

"You're really bad at bein' a noble, aren'tcha?"

"I guess so," Izuru said with a frown. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Nah, jus' makes ya different, that's all."

And different was okay, wasn't it? They could both be strange together. Izuru smiled gratefully at the older boy, whose hand was still wound around Izuru's sleeve. "Thank you."

There was a long moment of companionable silence between them. Izuru reclaimed his sleeve, and sat with his knees drawn up to his chest. The shinigami gracefully laid back down and resumed his languid basking.

Being in the company of a commoner was a lot more refreshing than Izuru had anticipated. It was nice, this feeling. Was this, perhaps, what it was like to truly be comfortable around another person? To have no need for pretenses? His eyes drifted toward the wall without his even noticing it until the gleaming white stone was all that lay in his field of vision. Whether it was mere minutes or hours that he had been sitting here, Izuru couldn't tell.

"Hey. You've been staring at that wall for a while," the shinigami said. He stretched and sat back up once again. "Wanna see what's on the other side?"

"I can't."

"Dun worry, we'll be back before they even notice."

Izuru shook his head. "I can't."

The silver-haired boy frowned as he cocked his head to the side. "Ya look sad. Sure I can't interest ya in a tour of the outside world?"

It was so tempting, Izuru thought, to just take the offered hand and run. But he came back to himself at the last minute and said, "I'm sorry, but I can't right now."

Their tenuous connection snapped.

"Aww, well that's too bad." A grotesquely large grin spread out along his face until it almost seemed that he'd had his cheeks sliced apart with a knife. Insincerity dripped down from his lips in place of blood. "Guess I'll just be takin' my leave..."

Once more, Izuru felt his blood run cold. Again, he could not distinguish why. Was it fear of that murderous smile? Or despair at the potential loss of a true friend? It didn't matter. He pushed past it and called out to the other.

"W-wait! We haven't even exchanged names yet! I'm-"

"Nah, don't bother. We'll prob'ly never see each other again. Was nice hangin' out with ya though. Bye~!"

"Wait!" he cried.

But it was too late. Faster than the blink of an eye, flash step, the mysterious shinigami was gone.

Izuru hurried out to the main grounds, dodging and weaving around others, periodically standing on tiptoe in the hopes of catching sight of a head of silver hair. It occurred to him that there were only thirteen divisions, and only thirteen lieutenants. Of course a lieutenant's information would be easy to look up! Yet it somehow seemed to be of great importance that Izuru caught hold of him now. If not now, it could be never, like the way his parents had never come back from that last mission...

"There you are! Honestly, Izuru, what are we going to do with you?" Aunt Michiko bustled her way over to him, and he knew his chance at freedom was gone.

"Forgive me. I will... I will be on my best behavior for the rest of the ceremony."

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Hello, Mother. Father."

Izuru knelt down before the gravestone and bowed. The house was empty, but he could still hear the muffled sounds of his cousins play-fighting from behind the small bamboo thicket that separated the main house of the Kira clan from those of the outer branches. And he knew, though he didn't know how he knew, that there was a distance between Izuru and his cousins that had nothing to do with the bamboo fence. Rather, it was about the wall.

It was about death. That was the irony of it. Because Izuru's parents had been shinigami, and they had died on the job. Because their deaths hit too close to home, and none of his relatives wanted to preserve the dignity of their noble clan by replacing the fallen and joining the ranks themselves. Because they feared for their lives even when nothing and no one in Soul Society was alive the way the Living World was alive.

They had yet to come alive.

"Aunt Michiko took us to the Kuchiki manor this morning," he said, fingers idly playing with the grass. "It's Kuchiki Byakuya's birthday today. His coming of age ceremony, actually. All the noble families were there to congratulate him. Um. And I met someone. Someone who came from... from where you are right now."

Izuru let out a shuddery sigh, his shoulders slumping as his eyes dropped down to where his fingers were picking at the grass. There were faint green stains blooming under his nails. "Father, Mother, I want to go where you are, but I don't want to die," he said, lifting his other hand to wipe tears on the sleeve of his best kimono. "There's... There's more to this world than what I've seen. When I'm a shinigami, I'll be ready to go across the wall, too, and maybe- maybe by that time you'll be there."

Izuru had asked a lot of questions after his parents' deaths; none of which had been answered. But that was okay, because he was just that little bit too smart as to make the adults nervous, and so was able to piece things together on his own. And so he knew things that he wasn't supposed to know, like the truth about the wall.

They, the nobility, were not using the wall to keep Rukongai riff-raff out, as was commonly said. It was the wall that caged them in, because the noble houses were comprised entirely of new souls. Seireitei was the birthplace of souls. When those souls passed on, they reincarnated in the Living World, and when they died there, they made their way to the Rukongai. And then it was back and forth between the Living World and the Rukongai, again and again, over and over again. Endlessly, unless one became a Hollow somewhere along the way, or the soul was otherwise destroyed. But until that first death - or birth, as it were - the new souls were locked up for safekeeping.

Izuru's father and mother were out there somewhere, but the only way he could ever hope to find them again was if he could get past his fears and over that wall.

With one last sniffle, he made his way back into the cold, empty house.

The cage door closed behind him.


	5. Otherside

Aizen had insisted that they begin testing their ability to use Garganta, and Gin trailed along behind him, as always. Skirting along the sands of Hueco Mundo like a wraith, his feet light against the sands, he watched as his captain baited the Hollows and sent them through.

"Gin, you should practice as well."

"Oh, I dunno 'bout that... S'not that I can't do kido - I'm pretty good, if I do say so myself - but ya knew that already. Just it always makes my hands all cold and tingly," he whined. Gin simpered at Aizen in a way that he knew made him look more like the devil than a petulant child.

"I won't stand for you holding me back. Show me your Garganta."

"Do I hafta?"

"Unless you wish for me to _inject_ that ability into you as I have done with our dear friend Kaname?"

Having lost this round, he replied contritely, "Yes, Captain Aizen."

Gin reached forth, and a black tear formed at his fingertips. It split the sky in a sharp, spreading crescent. It tore across worlds with a screech, a wail of snapping bones, human organs bursting like bloody sausages. To Gin, the creation of these portals never failed to put him into a certain curious frame of mind. Perhaps it was the sound, a wet sound like the ripping of damp linens; the same sound as a man's guts sliced and served on a bed of dirt, a meal of gored flesh for the master of the slaughterhouse... Or perhaps it was the ugly stitching of the Garganta as it mockingly unzipped reality to let in the stuff of nightmares. Garganta were such unhappy things, _angry_ things, and yet they always smiled.

He and his captain crossed through the void and came upon an interesting scene. Carefully tamping down on their power so as not to be sensed, they watched the chaos unfold before their eyes.

There they were, the cute little students. And oh, look! A giant Hollow was descending upon them. Run, students, run! Gin's laughter was drowned out by the fear. The air stank of it: fear. And oooh, ouch... He grimaced as the poor sixth year girl was viciously speared through. It was unfortunate, for he had pegged her for a future ranked officer, and now they were in danger of losing Hisagi, too, which would be such a shame. After all, Hisagi made it no secret that he was aiming for a _certain division_. And wouldn't it be so much more interesting if Hisagi were to serve, a loyal dog, under the captain who was most responsible for the destruction of the man he had worshipped.

"Now, Captain Aizen?"

"Not yet." Aizen was calm as always as he watched. "We must wait for Soul Society's missive."

Gin, paying only half a mind to the scene below, tugged his sleeves over his hands as best he could and wished, not for the first time, that he had a little more meat on his bones so as not to be so goddamned cold all the time. Ah, what he wouldn't give to warm his fingers up under Rangiku's fun bags... Watching her squirm and bat him away because "Eek! It's cold! Stop it before you make my girls shrivel up!"

At the very least, things would have been easier if he hadn't gotten so tall, because then the standard Shinigami uniform would actually come in a size that fit him properly. Not being able to reach the top shelf would be worth it if it meant he didn't have to go a size up on all his uniforms. Even so, they still ended up with sleeves that were much too short for his liking while the rest of it hung on him, an ill-fitted sack.

It always came back to the sleeves, see? Uniform modifications would be more acceptable if he were a captain of his own squad. Ah, it'd be easier if he were a member of some other division with less of an emphasis on proper presentation, too. But oh, not the ninth! Never that - he would be an ice cube within a day! Feeling the fabric sliding up again, Gin tugged it back down with a pout.

"Soon, Gin. There's no need to pout. Such impatience is unbecoming for a man of your stature."

"Ah, ya know me best, captain." He turned his attention back to the students.

Look at them scurry! All those little first years, screaming for their lives and nearly wetting their pants! He hadn't wanted to take in all the details of their pathetic helplessness, but it was hard to ignore something so obvious. The Hollows were eating their fill tonight, and Gin felt a rare bout of uncharacteristic anger settling low in his belly. A gnawing hunger; a thirst for blood.

Now, captain? Now?

Yes.

Gin leaped into the fray. "Ikorose, Shinsou!

His blade extended. A streak of silver, a wrathful shooting star. It flew straight and true, skewering the first Hollow right between the eyes, then impaling the second, and then the third. One, two, three, the hungry spirits dissipated into the night until nothing lingered but the echoes of their last cries.

It was over in an instant. As quickly as it had begun, it was over. Shinsou contracted to its dormant state, and the viper tucked his fangs back within the folds of his clothes as if he'd never lashed out at all.

The students, they were looking at him. Or _through_ him at Captain Aizen, most likely. Perhaps they were thinking of how strong a captain must be if a lieutenant was at such a level.

"Those three, Captain Aizen?"

"Yes."

Gin took one last glance behind him at the three students who'd had the audacity to stand their ground. Good things always came in threes. Well, bad things did as well. He wondered which it would be for those unfortunates whom Aizen had marked out. Poor little butterflies, little mice, little souls... Aizen was sure to fatten them up before the sacrificial feast. Maybe Gin could convince his captain to let him have one, too.

While Aizen walked straight back through the gate, Gin gave them a little wave. They'd be seeing a lot of each other in the future.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hinamori stepped out of the infirmary.

"How's Hisagi-sempai holding up?" Abarai asked.

"Pretty well. He'll be fully recovered in time for graduation." Hinamori smiled reassuringly as she took her customary place between her two best friends, a hand on each of their arms.

Kira felt his tensed shoulders start to relax. It had already been a week since that traumatic experience, and even though the three of them now had the respect of the entire student body, he strangely felt no pride at his supposed accomplishments.

What had he done? He had frozen in place and nearly wet himself until Hinamori's charge had woken him up, and even then, he hadn't been strong enough or fast enough to save Hisagi-sempai. If it hadn't been for Lieutenant Ichimaru...

Kira sighed. "I think... I would like to join the Fifth Division."

His friends responded enthusiastically.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Captain Aizen held calligraphy classes at the academy once a week, at which Hinamori attended religiously and was a prized student due to her natural artistic skill. Kira went with her sometimes because his penmanship could do with some improvement, especially if he was to be taken seriously as a poet. After all, haiku wasn't just a string of words of a particular pattern. It was also a visual art where composition was just as important as content.

And Renji... showed no interest in "that scholarly stuff". (Actually, he had been banned by Hinamori after the time he accidentally dropped Kira's inkstone on her head. Making Momo look a fool in front of Captain Aizen, intentional or not, was not a sin that would be easily forgiven.) Despite Renji's absence, Kira found that he quite enjoyed the occasional calligraphy lesson. Captain Aizen was good at making things easy to understand, and then, while the mob of Shinigami girls crowded around their teacher after class, Kira found that sometimes Lieutenant Ichimaru would be waiting outside. While Kira waited for his friend to finish up her questions, and Ichimaru waited for his captain to finish answering them, they kept each other company.

Today he had come with his inks and brushes, and yet he stood outside the building, wringing his hands at what he was about to do: skip class. Lately, Kira had been coming to these lessons more and more frequently... and leaving class earlier and earlier. It was an optional extracurricular endeavor, but Kira's inner sense of propriety recoiled nonetheless. He liked calligraphy class, he really did. It was just that he liked spending time with Lieutenant Ichimaru much more. He blushed at his own train of thought.

Kira never understood why others were so afraid of Lieutenant Ichimaru. Well, he understood it intellectually, of course, because Ichimaru's features were uniquely sharp in a disconcerting way, and it was true that the ever-present smile lent his face an air of cruelty. He was not handsome. He was not gentle. But he had intelligence, strength, and an odd sort of charisma that was uniquely his own.

Kira couldn't see why so many people went out of their way to avoid having conversations with Ichimaru, who always had something clever to say if only one would approach him. He didn't get why his classmates called him "brave" or "crazy" when he admitted to enjoying his time with Ichimaru when they happened to meet after Aizen's calligraphy class.

At first, they merely exchanged polite greetings and companionable silence, but then Kira started noticing things. Ichimaru lived in the present and in his own world all at once. It wasn't uncommon for Ichimaru to devise his own games with whatever he had on hand that day: twigs, berries, tiny pebbles... He examined the most mundane things with utmost attention to detail, and then he made them "fun".

Kira, running the soft tip of his calligraphy brush over his palm, turned away from the main entrance. He took several unsteady steps through the courtyard to the back of the building where Ichimaru would most likely be found, either sprawled out basking in the warm afternoon sun, resting beneath a shady tree, or poking around the dirt in a very undignified, un-lieutenant-like way. At times like these, he looked less like a commanding officer and more like a fellow student plotting pranks against their teachers. And Kira could pretend, for a moment, that they were friends.

It was option #3 today, Kira noted as he tentatively strode in upon the scene. Ichimaru was on his hands and knees, hidden from view except for his behind, which jutted out from under the cover of the ferns. As Kira softly approached, he saw that the twigs and berries had become an elaborate labyrinth, and Ichimaru appeared to be running a race between a pill bug and a beetle. Kira couldn't suppress a small chuckle at the sight, which caused the other man to look up. And if such a thing were possible, his customary smile was even more mischievous than usual.

"Ya laughin' at me?"

"Uh, n-no, sir-"

"Because I'll have ya know that bugs're respectable creatures. I'm bettin' on the beetle."

Kira cocked his head to the side, trying and failing to analyze their conversation in a logical way. He settled for solemn acceptance. "I suppose I shall try my luck with the pill bug," he said. Ichimaru scooted over, and Kira joined him in his insanity, kneeling in the dirt, staring intently as two crawly things leisurely stumbled along.

"What're ya willin' to give if I win?"

"I don't know. Anything, I suppose."

"Oh really."

Ichimaru's tone was far from comforting, and Kira was quick to amend his earlier statement. "Anything within reason, that is. P-provided that you agree to the same terms, if they are acceptable to you, sir."

"It's a deal," Ichimaru said. He took up a leaf and tickled the pill bug, which immediately curled up in a defensive ball while the beetle trudged on ahead.

"Ah! That's not fair!"

"We agreed on the stakes, Kira-kun, but we never set the rules." Ichimaru smiled at him. Disingenuously, of course.

Kira's lips pulled taut in a stubborn line as he worked out the consequences of his planned actions. Ichimaru was not playing fair, and this called for serious payback. Yet on the other hand, a noble must always carry himself with graceful comport and must never be rude to a superior. Bear with it. Be patient. Obey, his aunt's voice echoed in his mind. Do not show contempt to your superiors even if they abuse you.

"Aww, not gonna put up a fight? Thanks for the easy win, Kira-kun... I'll be sure to select a suitable prize." Ichimaru mockingly put a hand on his chin. "Hmm, what do I want? Hmm..." He picked up the leaf again and lazily prodded the beetle to make it go faster and further cement his win. All the while, Kira's poor pill bug lay curled up in fear, because each time it began to uncurl, Ichimaru cruelly tickled it back into a ball.

Challenge accepted.

Kira drew in a deep breath and blew the pill bug across the finish line.

"That wasn't fair," Ichimaru said with a frown.

"It doesn't matter how I did it - I still won."

"Aaah, a man after my own heart."

Kira felt an irrational swelling of pride bubbling up in his chest at that statement. Ichimaru Gin was impressed with him, even if it was for something as stupid as cheating at a childish diversion which they were both far too old for. His lungs constricted, and it was hard to breathe.

"Well," asked Gin, "yer ready to pick a prize?"

It didn't matter what the rumors said about him being from the outskirts of the Rukongai. It didn't matter that the rumors were true - and Kira knew them to be true, for he had never forgotten his meeting with the mysterious boy in the garden some years ago.

So, despite his well-meaning classmates telling him to stay away, Kira made no changes in the way he treated the other. He trusted his intuition; his intuition told him that Ichimaru was not a bad man. No one who took as much pleasure from the natural world as Ichimaru did could be all that bad, Kira thought. He was convinced that Ichimaru had within him a poet's soul. The ability to find beauty in sorrow, or humor from pain. In this they were kindred spirits.

And besides, who else could he turn to, when he wanted to race pill bugs among the ferns? And to forget the weight of the expectations placed on his shoulders? How wonderful it would be to stay by this man's side for just a little bit longer...

"Take me across the wall," he said.

Gin extended his hand, and this time Izuru took hold. It was warm where their skin met.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They stood atop a teahouse overlooking the marketplace of the Rukongai's fifth district. Kira's eyes were wide with wonder, his cheeks flushed and lips curled upward in barely concealed excitement. It was such a simple thing, to sneak outside the walls, and yet it brought such pleasure. Gin found it all to be delightfully amusing.

"You were wrong, you know, when you said we would never meet again."

It was barely a whisper, not meant for anyone's ears, but Gin heard it and responded. "Never thought ya'd make it this far." He snorted in amusement. "Tha' was then, this is now. I've learned my lesson 'bout underestimatin' you."

Kira appeared pensive, and perhaps a bit surprised. "You remember?"

Gin shrugged it off with a nonchalant smile. "I'm sure ya know who I am by now, but if it still matters, my name is Ichimaru Gin, and I thank ya for keepin' me from dyin' of boredom."

"Kira Izuru," he said with a polite bow. "Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant Ichimaru."

Gin leaned in closer, letting his breath ghost along the shell of an ear. "May I call you Izuru? You can call me Gin..."

Kira's subsequent shiver was delicious, but before the younger man could gather his wits, Gin had pulled away. He hopped down to street-level without a sound, shocking the owner of the food cart he had landed in front of. The old lady yelped when she was suddenly greeted with a grinning face, but Gin merely said, "Hiya. Two, please." She warily accepted his coin, but no sooner than she felt the metal against her hand, and he was gone.

Up again, to the roof. Gin handed one of the meatbuns to Kira, and motioned for the boy to sit down with him. Kira watched the people go by. And Gin watched Kira taking delicate bites of his meal, eyes shining, the entirety of him aglow with potential.

It was his innocence that first caught Gin's attention. There was a soul in that boy that wasn't pure in the way saints were said to be pure, but rather pure in a way that was quiet and expressive all at once; soothing, but with a hint of steel and mischief underneath. It was a poetic sort of gentleness that carried great secrets within, waiting to be explored and set free. Kira was... Izuru was absolutely fascinating in his strangeness. He was fun to watch, and to tease, but there was also something else about him.

Izuru's closest friends were, without exception, all from the Rukongai. It most likely wasn't a conscious choice on his part, and Gin doubted that he'd even noticed, but the fact remained that this said a lot about Izuru's character. And this was dangerous because it made Gin feel things. Here was a person who truly respected him as he was, not in spite of who he was or where he had come from. A person's origins didn't register as important in Izuru's mind, nor did he ever ask for the gritty details of street life. Even if he had been told, he would probably frown and say, "It must have been a hard life, but I'm glad you're here now."

More so than that, here was a person for whom Gin's strange plays did not provoke disgust or disdain. And this was dangerous because it made Gin feel complacent when complacency was unacceptable for his mission. He was content here. Spending time with Izuru softened him; diverted him from his ultimate goal. It made Gin hope for things that he knew he was not meant for in this life, not when he was so tainted with hatred and thoughts of revenge. He knew he should stay away, except that he had never been able to stop poking at something when he got curious. And Izuru made him very, very curious.

This could not go on. No, no, this could not go on. The market was closing up for the evening. Gin's smile turned sinister just as a chill wind blew past, just as he thought, 'Oh my, what a conundrum. Something must be done.'


	6. Frankness and Finesse

Gin settled himself behind the desk. It was his desk, his office. His division, his rules.

With a lop-sided grin, he ran his fingers across the smooth wood before him. There was a dull ache he could still feel, pounding in the back of his head, but not even that could stifle the joy he felt at this new situation. The leash that bound him to Aizen had been loosened. Gin could now breathe easier. Ah, and he’d drank too much in celebration last night.

The Third Division’s new motto, he had slurred out during the party, was “Work Hard, Play Harder!” Gin’s new subordinates, most of whom were understandably wary of him, seemed a tolerable lot for the most part. Sure, there were a few humorless ones in the bunch, but they would learn to take a joke in time, or they would leave. All in all, things were looking good.

He drummed his fingers on the stack of documents that were already waiting for him, looked up at the ceiling with squinted eyes, and murmured to himself, “I kinda wish Izuru were here. He’s cute when he’s hung over.”

Gin’s evil plotting was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Captain, someone’s here to see you,” a shinigami called from the other side.

“Oh, a visitor? So early? Who could it be?”

“It’s, ah, someone from the Twelfth Division... I think...”

From his tone of voice, Gin gathered that the Third Division member didn’t know what to make of the situation. Gin, however, was intrigued. Strange visitors didn’t always make for the most pleasant chats, but at least they spiced things up a bit. He chuckled and nearly squirmed in his seat at the fun that could be had.

“Sure, sure, let ‘em in!”

The door opened, giving Gin a view of his nervous subordinate, who sketched a quick bow and scuttled off, and also... Ah. Interesting, Gin thought. It was a woman of rather unremarkable appearance who stepped up to his desk, and although Gin had not had contact with her for a very, very long time, he knew right away who it was. He put his hands under his chin, though, and smiled at the newcomer as if he was curious to find out who she was.

“Hello there, Miss...”

“Itou Haru.”

“Yes, Itou-san, is it? And what can I do for ya?”

“Cut the crap, Captain Ichimaru, you know who I am.”

Gin frowned exaggeratedly. “Aww, yer no fun, Haru.”

“On the contrary,” she said impassively, “you think I’m tons of fun.”

“Confident, aren’tcha?”

“No, I just know that I wouldn’t still be alive if you didn’t.”

“Yer as blunt as ever, Haru...” Gin’s eyes opened just a sliver, darting around the room. The door was closed, and the window also firmly shut. No signs of any technological instruments that could breach their privacy, either. Having confirmed that it was safe, he took a deep breath and turned his attention back to Itou. “So? To what do I owe the pleasure of this li’l meetin’?”

“I want in.”

Gin raised one eyebrow. “‘Scuse me?”

“I want to transfer into the Third.”

His other eyebrow rose as well - it was indeed amusing. “Well. D’ya have a recommendation?”

“Yes,” she said, though she made no move to show him any papers.

Gin stared at Haru, who stared back. He stretched out his hand and motioned for her to hand it over. Yet still she made no move, not even when he wiggled his fingers obscenely. A minute of random sign language and pantomimed finger fucking later, and it was time to go in for the kill.

“Maa, one’d think ya didn’t really have a recommendation letter! That wasn’t made up, was it? I’d hate to think my ol’ friend Itou-san could be such a liar!”

“Two minutes ago you said you didn’t know me, and now I’m your old friend?”

“Two minutes ago was a very long time in the past,” Gin said, feigning remorse. “It ain’t becomin’ of ya to hold grudges like that. Now, who’d ya say recommended ya to the Third?”

Itou, whose face was normally inexpressive, let out a tiny smile. “You did,” she said.

“Huh. And when’d I do that?”

“Right now.”

“Ha!” Gin burst out laughing. His mouth opened wide, and he shook all the way from shoulders to stomach. It was absurd! Someone, some no-ranker bottom-feeder shinigami waltzing into a captain’s office and demanding recruitment on the spot? Absurd!

However, those who knew Gin knew that he reveled in the absurd, and he found it refreshing for someone to use his personality against him. A clever move on her part, though Itou was not nearly clever enough to make it so the manipulation went unnoticed, unlike Aizen... Even so, Gin conceded that she had a unique, adaptable style of play. She was an interesting opponent, if not a challenging one, and such a well-thought tactic deserved a proper response on his part.

“Ya got balls, Haru. I’ll give ya that, but it ain’t enough. Tell me. Why should I let you in?”

Itou closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Because once your new subordinates find out what you’re like, half of them will leave this division rather than play your sadistic games. You’ll go through a massive restructuring, the entire hierarchy will have to be reworked, and most of your time will then be spent desperately recruiting new members to keep balance between divisions after the flooding out.”

“Geez, ya make it sound like I’m a real piece o’ work...”

“You are. And that’s why you might as well have me around, because you’ll need someone to help you get this division off the ground and refitted to your tastes. And, preferably, that someone should know how to deal with you without screaming and running the other way whenever you show up.”

“And ya think ya know how t’deal with me.”

“Like I said, I’m not dead yet.”

Gin chuckled and shook his head. True, her offense was weak - quick jabs, limited to nothing but surprise novelty attacks - but her defensive counters were something of a work of art, as was her willingness to use truth as manipulation and honesty as deception. “Don’tcha think yer too blunt sometimes?”

Itou returned his smile. “Nah, you’re the one who’s too indirect, having to go through this entire conversation with me when you’ve had your mind made up the moment I walked into this room.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

One well-placed shakkahō had the man flying into the wall at breakneck speed. With a loud crack, his body slammed into the bricks and sent them tumbling on top of him.

Kira calmly straightened out, smoothed his hands over his uniform, and turned to level his sorrowful gaze at the other goons. They curled their lips up at him in five identical ugly sneers, but Kira could see the uneasiness behind the machismo. It was in the way they shifted their footing, and the way their hands twitched to grab sword hilts. They hadn’t expected to have to take a weak healer seriously, but Kira knew he was more than a match for them, and he knew that they were well aware of this, too, if the sweat beading on their brows was any indication.

The tension around them snapped as their leader, the largest of the bunch, standing in the center, stepped forward and drew his sword. It swished out of the scabbard with a piercing metallic cry.

“Come on, ya little blond pansy! You an’ me, one on one! Draw your sword! Unless you’re too scared to, eh?”

That was the trouble with the Eleventh Division, Kira thought. Most members had such archaic notions of honor when it came to battle, and yet none outside of it, unless picking on errand boys half one’s size was considered honorable these days. But no, once in battle, it was endless lectures about chivalry this and bravery that, and yet the only things they considered chivalrous or brave were the things Kira considered _stupid_. It was blasphemy for a member of their division to consider anything remotely resembling tactics, because one wasn’t a _real man_ unless one was willing to charge straight into an opponent’s trap and lose five pints of blood just tearing through it and then dying of hypovolemic shock right before finishing the mission.

That attitude was so ingrained into their brainwashed skulls that they snorted in disdain whenever kidō was mentioned, and laughed at the “cowardly” Onmitsukidō with all their “sneaking and skulking about”. It didn’t matter to them that the Onmitsukidō used their superior stealth to undertake missions far more dangerous and situations far more delicate than any unranked lackey of the Eleventh would ever touch. It didn’t even matter that cutting themselves off from kidō was essentially cutting off half of a Shinigami’s arsenal, or that the kidō they hated so much was the only thing that was keeping them fighting at all. Unless they would rather never have healers reattach any severed tendons? If so, Kira vowed to change his opinion of them from stupid to _extremely masochistic and suicidally stupid_.

The leader of this posse of clowns was still waiting on him, but it was such a waste of time that Kira decided he wasn’t even going to give them the pleasure of seeing Wabisuke unsheathed. The only point in fighting was to win; not to beat one’s chest in a pointless display of gorilla machismo. Was it so much to ask that members of the Gotei 13 at least try to tamp down on their savage impulses and behave like the professionals they were supposed to be? First year academy students were expected to behave with more maturity than this!

Kira lifted his hand again, and frowned as he let the red sphere of spiritual power coalesce in his opened palm. “Hadō no sanjyuu-ichi, shakkahō!”

_Crack!_

Four pairs of eyes darted toward the crumbling wall where their fallen friend still lay groaning. The fifth pair, belonging to their leader, was opened wide in shock and starting blankly at Kira. His hand twitched at his side, relieved of its zanpakutō, which was now lodged deeply in the stone behind him.

Bullseye. Though it wasn’t outwardly noticeable, Kira’s chest swelled up with pride. It was good to know that his aim was as good as ever, even if he had to indulge in a little cruelty to prove it.

It took a while for the idiot’s brain to process what had happened, but eventually the singed flesh was too painful to ignore. “Uuuurrrrrraaaggghh! Coward!” the brute managed to gasp out, uninjured hand reaching over to clasp the burned flesh of the other.

Kira glanced over at the wound with a healer’s practiced eye. “You might want to get that washed and bandaged before you head back. Given the state of the Eleventh’s barracks, that,” he nodded toward the bloodied hand, “could easily get infected.”

“Coward! You can’t even fight me like a man?!”

_Zankensōki, the four disciplines that form the core of Shinigami fighting technique. Zan, armed combat; ken, unarmed combat; sō, movement; ki, kidō... Balance is the key to victory._

Kira shook his head. It was a sad day when an apprentice healer knew more about Shinigami combat philosophy than an entire combat squad... There was no getting through them today, not that there ever was. It was better for him to take his leave.

“I was under the impression that intelligence is what sets apart man from beast. It would be better to be a coward by your standards, then. Now if you’ll excuse me...”

A chorus of audible gulps sounded from the remaining would-be bullies as they scurried out of the way. It was the only sensible move they had made this morning.

Kira knelt down to pick up the box of medical supplies at his feet, pleased to note that none of the delicate vials had been damaged. He was not going to be late today. Captain Unohana would take it out of his skin if he was.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Waiting.

Waiting sucked.

There were some things that were better after a longer wait. Food tasted better when one was hungry; long, hot baths felt better after a tough training session where everything was caked in dirt and blood. Kuchiki Rukia’s screams were sweeter if he had to hide for a few minutes before popping out of the shadows to greet her. Gin understood that kind of wait.

This, however, was too much. No, this wouldn’t do at all. Aizen was starting to lose patience with Gin’s teasing and flirting, and if Aizen lost his patience, he would find some way to make Gin take on a brainwashed lieutenant whose loyalties lay with Aizen first and foremost.

“That third seat of yours,” Aizen had said during their latest chat over tea, “How did you decide upon her? Were you previously acquainted?”

“Does Aizen-sama not approve?”

“I’m merely curious as to who you have in mind for your lieutenant should you fail to capture Kira-kun, whether you would be willing to promote from within, or if I should make a few... suggestions on your behalf.”

“Oh, well, Itou-san transferred in an’ didn’t seem like she was gonna leave, so I thought it’d be fun to give ‘er a seated position. My division’s somewhat of a testosterone fest right now, so I thought, ‘Ja! Maybe boobs’ll keep ‘em in line!’ Brilliant plan, right? Lieutenant seat’s still reserved - I won’t fail.”

“Interesting, that you’d hand over such a high rank to a near stranger. I would caution you to keep an eye on her, lest she start to suspect you.”

“She ain’t that smart; I got her under control. ‘Sides, everyone suspects me of somethin’ or other.”

“True, Gin... How true...”

It was so like Aizen, being so cryptic with his words. He’d hinted that Itou Haru was his plant, and because this was Aizen he was up against, it wasn’t an option Gin could completely cross off. If she was still an independent player, then Aizen had started keeping tabs on her. Either way, he had her in his crosshairs.

And this just reaffirmed Gin’s belief that there really was nobody in the world he could trust with all his burdens, because the knowledge would always be dangerous either to Gin... or to whichever idiot managed to uncover too much of Aizen’s true nature.

“S’about time I went an’ took back what was mine.”

The Third Division had largely settled down in comparison to how it had been a few months ago. Though seated officers’ positions were still unstable, transfers in and out had slowed to a steady trickle. And still, still... Izuru had yet to request to transfer in.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen Izuru at all, since Gin often devised plots to sneak out to wherever Izuru was at the moment. He would “just happen” to bump into the other man outside of a store or a restaurant; the Third was only ever in need of medical supplies when Izuru was in charge of the storehouse. For two people belonging to different divisions and holding such disparate ranks, they saw each other quite often.

And each time he would be careful to lean in just close enough for discomfort, to place just the right amount of pressure on Izuru’s shoulder, and to let just the barest hint of breath blow across his target’s ear. He would smile at the shiver and think he had caught Izuru at last. And each time, that stubborn little bastard would blush and bow to him and... _not_ trip over himself to transfer out into Gin’s division. Then stupid Haru would huff and roll her eyes and say, “That schoolboy crush you’ve got going on is cute and all, but you’re too indirect, Captain. Just jump him or something.”

Stupid Haru. If she had time to comment on his lack of a love life, then she had far too much time. He resolved to give her more paperwork, but for now, he was in search of someone much cuter.

Gin hid himself near the path that led to the Fourth’s medical storehouse, waiting until he saw a certain someone take over the re-stocking. He would wait a while longer, observe his target before _just happening_ to wander over because he’d been taking a stroll and suddenly remembered that his division was low on cough syrup.

The sight of Izuru at once made Gin excited and prickling with impatience. He had taken to slouching and hiding himself behind his hair. No longer did he stride proudly forward. The preppy Academy boy was no more.

Like Aizen said, it must have been a huge blow to his pride. For a man like Izuru, who must have been considered talented even at a young age, who had always worked hard and been among the best, who had risen up the ranks in the Fifth at breakneck speed... For a man like that to be demoted to nothing but a grunt in the weakest division, he must have thought himself worthless.

And of course, this was Izuru, who was too sweet to blame anyone else for his own misfortunes. This was Izuru who, though others might not see it, was determined to make it to the top one day, and was surprisingly hard to push around when he had his mind set on something. These days, that “something” seemed to be “avoiding accusations of nepotism at the cost of making himself utterly miserable”.

It was always hard lying to Aizen, and this case was no exception. “Oh, yes yes,” Gin had said, “Izuru seems so sad these days. It’d be too bad if he was gettin’ depressed.” And Aizen, too preoccupied with trying to guess through Gin’s other moves, never realized.

Still, the fact remained that he was miserable in this division, and Gin was offering a clear escape, yet Izuru never took it.

Well, Gin had decided that he would take it today, even if he had to try a more... direct... strategy. (Not, of course, that he would ever let his nosy third seat catch wind of this.) He sauntered out into the clearing.

Izuru’s tired eyes lit up at the sight of his visitor. “Good morning, Captain Ichimaru. What can I do for you?”

“Oh, so you’re in charge of the storehouse today. Wasn’t expectin’ ta see ya here.” It was an obvious lie, lilting out in his distinctive accent and accompanied, as always, by a wide, thin-lipped grin. Gin took careful note of Izuru’s reaction to his facetious words.

“Um, yes... Of course, Captain Ichimaru. I wouldn’t expect anyone to remember that I’m always here on Wednesday afternoons.” Izuru let out a sad-looking hint of a smile.

“But ya have Thursdays off, I remember that! Say, why don’tcha come over to see me tomorrow? We don’t hang out nearly enough anymore.”

Izuru’s nervous habit of playing with sash returned, and he lowered his eyes to the ground. “No, it wouldn’t be proper, Captain Ichimaru. I’m an unseated member of another division! I can’t just go calling on a c-captain...”

“Sure ya can.”

“N-no, it’s...”

“I don’t like sad stories.”

“It’s... What?”

“An’ yours is a sad story right now. Why haven’t ya gotten any promotions?”

Izuru blinked, still reeling from what must have seemed like a sudden change of topic. But he had long since become accustomed to Gin’s unpredictability, and so he tried his best to give a thoughtful answer. “I couldn’t heal when I first got here, so it was only natural that I wasn’t given a seated officer’s position. Healing skills are important here...”

“I’m askin’ about promotions. Izuru’s kido ability’s impressive. Don’t tell me ya can’t heal now.”

“And... I...”

“What was that?”

“I fight,” he whispered. “I thought it would eventually go away if I just stood my ground and let them know I wasn’t a good target, but it got worse instead. I didn’t know what else to do, so I’ve been fighting back. Every time I think I can rise up, I fall back down. Captain Unohana has even pulled me aside to talk about ‘curbing violent tendencies’ many times over, but I just can’t.” He continued looking down, his head bowed in repentence for breaking the Fourth Division’s cardinal sin.

For some reason, Gin also felt the need to look off to the side. They were idiots, he thought, those who couldn’t find a use for such a multi-talented young man. “Maybe it’s time ya rejoined a combat squad, yanno?”

Izuru shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said all that. Sorry for bothering you. You wouldn’t want to hear about my troubles...”

“Well, I was just thinkin’ that I’m missin’ a lieutenant right now. I was gonna promote the third seat and bump everyone along as well, but then I thought that’s way too many promotions! So then I thought of ya. How ‘bout it, Izuru? Lucky number three? Third seat in the Third?”

He gasped, a sharp intake of breath accompanied by widened eyes. “I... No, it’s all right. I don’t think you should offer that kind of position to me.”

“Lieutenant, then,” Gin said. He gave his bestest, brightest smile. Izuru froze, his mouth stuck in an unattractive horrified grimace, to which Gin responded by putting on an exaggerated pouty frown which must have looked especially sinister on his sharp-featured face. “Ya wouldn’t accept.”

“No. No, I’m sorry. I’m unseated right now. If you were to offer me one of the higher seats right away, it would... especially since we’re... friends...”

Oh, that answer was _displeasing_. If kindness did not get the results he wanted, Gin could always switch to cruelty. He began to pace around Izuru, coiling around his prey. “Why do ya want to be a Shingami, I wonder. Ya want money or status? Even if the Kira clan is only minor nobility, if ya never joined up ya could’ve lounged around on an inheritance, couldn’t ya? Is it for pride? Idealism? Honor? Have ya got honor, Izuru?”

“Please, Captain Ichimaru...” Izuru was obviously getting uncomfortable now. Placing his hands on the bony chest in front of him, he half-heartedly tried to push away, but Gin just moved in even closer until it was lips against ear.

So close, too close... Gin pressed a feather-light kiss to the pulse point below the temple. He could feel the blood under the skin.

“Nah, ya’d fight dirty to win and never bother to hide it. Wearin’ that kinda ruthlessness on yer sleeve like that... But I like that about ya,” he said, enjoying Izuru’s confusion. “You’re an honest man.” And with that, Gin ghosted out the way he came in.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kira was left to wonder if he had ever been there at all. Had it really been Captain Ichimaru, or had it been an apparition, a hallucination born from too many long nights spent cramming a square peg into a round hole? Cramming medical texts into a melee fighter’s brain... He blinked slowly and finally looked down to the papers he suddenly found clutched to his chest.

**REQUEST FOR DIVISION TRANSFER**

The dark ink splashed over the page marked his future. His name, current rank and position, and intended division of transfer - Third, duly noted - were all already filled out for him in Captain Ichimaru’s unmistakable scrawl. As he flipped through the rest of the stack, Kira’s brows drew down into a troubled expression at how pushy, how uncharacteristically direct the captain of the Third was being. Everything had already been filled out. Everything. But for his signature.

He reached into the folds of his kosode to bring out the small brush he kept hidden there in case poetic inspiration struck at an odd moment. He paused over the paper. He had wanted this; he had always wanted this, and he had said to himself while in the academy that he would never let anything get in the way of his goals. Had anything changed? Did he want it still?

Captain Ichimaru wanted him to transfer, that was for sure.

And it was... nice. To feel wanted, that is, even if he was only being toyed with.

His hands didn’t shake at all as he signed away his fate.


	7. Mad Season

They huddle together under a tattered blanket, wrapped in hope and desperation. The white walls of Seireitei are perhaps an hour’s walk from this park in the inner Rukongai; they would make that trek in the morning.

“Hey, Rangiku?”

“Hmm?”

“Y’know I’ll always come back for ya, right?”

“Why? Are you leaving again?”

“Would I actually _say_ it if I were?”

“I hate you, Gin.”

Gin smiles and nudges at her teasingly. Rangiku pokes him back, right on the ticklish spot above his hip; she flutters her fingers until he starts squirming. It would have turned into an all-out tickle fight, but he maneuvers himself away from her hands and wraps his arms around her, hugging her into stillness. She senses the seriousness and quiets nervously.

“We need to split up once we hit the academy,” he says.

“Why?”

Why indeed. He can’t tell her that he’s walking straight into the den of his enemy. He can’t tell her they need to split up for her own safety. He can’t tell her they have to minimize contact so that his enemy won’t have her pinned as the first target to use against him.

“It’ll be easier that way. The people there are good, not like here. Yer gonna make friends with some of the girls and sign up to be roommates with ‘em.”

“I can’t room with you?”

“They don’t let boys and girls stay together. We prob’ly won’t have the same classes, either.”

“So you _are_ leaving again.” She turns around to look at him. Sad. Accusatory. “How come you never stay?”

Gin shrugs. “I’ll be around.” _To watch over you from afar. But you won’t need me anymore. It’s better if you stay away._

 

-oOo- 

 

“So you’re one of us now, huh.” The sixth year boy reaches across the cafeteria table to ruffle Gin’s hair. “Our little Hyapponzashi’s all grown up!”

The boy sitting at Gin’s side retorts, “He’s one-upped all of us, man. They’re putting him in the advanced class.”

“Fuck! Is that true?”

Gin looks up from his lunch and smiles wickedly. “Yup. I’m a grower, not a shower. When I want it t’be, my sword-peen’s a hundred times bigger’n yours.”

The sixth year boys launch themselves at him in a vicious noogie attack, and Gin just laughs and lets them have their way. The first year students, whom he had never gotten along with besides Rangiku, look on in fear and envy from across the room. Rangiku is there with her new friends; Gin distantly notes that she is sitting next to a tiny girl, the one closest to her in age, Ise Nanao. He approves of this friendship.

Gin, in contrast to Rangiku’s wholesome girlfriends, has gotten himself in with a bunch of misfit older boys from the lower classes. They help him plan pranks and teach him all sorts of inappropriate slang. They treat him like their genius younger brother, and they revel in the fact that, even if he barely comes up to their chest while standing on tiptoe, he can keep up with the best of the best. (It helps that hanging around Gin means they can see the jealousy on the faces of the “elite” students of the sixth year advanced class.)

Gin smooths his hair back into place as the lunch period ends. The morning of his first day as a sixth year had been spent familiarizing himself with his new schedule and getting a tour of his new classrooms and new dorms. This afternoon he would begin to attend classes.

“Watch your back, shorty. Those guys already hate you ‘cuz you make them look bad.” With one last pat on the back, his “brothers” split off to go to their separate classes, but Gin is headed to the room at the very end: the advanced class.

True enough, he is greeted with wary glances as he steps in front of the blackboard. Some even look at him with outright hostility.

“Everyone, please welcome Ichimaru Gin to our class. Ichimaru-kun has skipped quite a few grades, so this is still his first year at the academy and I’d like you all to do your best to make him feel welcome.” Murata-sensei beams proudly at him, and that just increases the intensity of their hateful glares.

“It’s a pleasure to meet ya,” Gin says. “Please guide me in th’ future.”

As their instructor is looking over the seating charts, Gin takes the opportunity to scrutinize his classmates. His eyes roam over their faces, hands, postures. In mere seconds, he has managed to pick apart those who are genuinely hostile from the ones who are nervous or indifferent. A few are cautiously interested in befriending him if he turns out not to be as creepy as the rumors paint him out to be.

Unfortunately for them, the rumors don’t do him justice - he’s worse than they say. And he spies one student, just one, whose body language signals that there is more going on than what appears at the surface. Gin knows he will be ostracized by his classmates, but there is another loner already here. This one will be useful.

Murata-sensei is a nice man, and generally perceptive enough, but he’s completely transparent. Gin thinks most people are too easy to figure out. There are plenty of empty seats, but Gin knows who he’s going to be assigned to sit by even before the instructor decides. He guesses that Murata-sensei’s thought processes probably go something like this:

Each year is different; each class has its own personality. This time around, the sixth year advanced class is unusually cutthroat, suspicious, and cruel. They are a tight-knit bunch not given to welcoming those they perceive as outsiders. As the rumor mill says, the worst of them also have been known to run these “intruders” out of their class. Why, last year this particular advanced group hazed a boy until he purposely flunked a test in order to sabotage his ranking and move back down to a lower class! And even then they continued to “put him in his place” and bullied him incessantly for ever daring to think he could rise to their level. Rumor had it that the poor boy left the academy in tears, shamed all the way back to the Rukongai slums. But now there are two students moved up from lower classes (or lower grades in Gin’s case), and Murata-sensei has in mind that perhaps they will last longer if they have mutual support.

“Ah, perfect!” Murata-sensei pens his decision onto the seating chart. “Ichimaru-kun, please take the seat by Itou-kun. Itou-kun, raise your hand.”

The girl in the back corner raises her hand, sparking a fit of muffled snickering from her peers. Itou-kun slouches in her seat and hides her face behind a veil of long, unkempt hair. “Okiku, Okiku!” they taunt her as Murata-sensei busies himself with the blackboard. “Go back to your Hollow friends!”

In their white uniforms, Gin concedes that she does indeed resemble the legendary ghost in the well. Nevertheless, he saunters down the rows to sit calmly beside her. “Can I see yer notes?”

And she whispers, “Which ones?”

“Oh, I dunno... Whatever ya think would be useful. What’re we studyin’ now, anyways?”

Murata-sensei begins his lecture.

Itou surreptitiously slips her personal notes in under the lecture notes from last class. Gin listens to their instructor with half an ear. He scrawls bits and pieces of information in his notebook, looking for all the world like the studious genius trying his best to catch up to his older classmates.

“I could expose ya, betray ya with these,” he says to Itou, voice obscured by the scratching of pen on paper.

“You could...” She slumps further down in her seat, and her voice is small. It is small, but not nearly as broken as her hunched back would suggest. “But you gain nothing by taking me down. I’m the lowest ranked in this class; I’m a nobody.”

“An’ what’s that got to do with me?”

“There are rumors about you. You like hunting the strong ones.” She smiles, then, and though he can’t see her eyes, he knows are cold and vengeful. “I like seeing them fall.”

 

 -oOo-

 

They’ve joined the academy. They see each other after class sometimes. The distance is far too small for him even after he skips five grades and becomes her senior - a sixth year too busy to hang around with the first years. She reaches out for him, but each time she closes the distance, he increases it a hundredfold.

Her eyes bore into him from afar, filled with hurt as he walks off on a practice mission with a sixth year girl. She bites her lip when he comes back and chooses to go out with the older students rather than spend time with her. She still looks around for him on campus even after hearing the rumors about him and the sixth year girl having that kind of relationship.

Farther. He goes farther. He graduates in a single year. After that, there is no childhood friend for her to pester after class or visit in the boys’ dorm.

It’s five more years before they see each other again, and he has grown cold. He never lets her see his eyes anymore. His laughter is false; his face is false. He is a lieutenant now; the youngest ever in the history of the Gotei 13.

He is feared.

It takes him six years to do what takes others sixty, but through it all, she remembers what he used to be like; his kindness and his soft voice whispering to her when she couldn’t sleep. She knows him well. (As well as anyone can.) She knows he is capable of love, and she thinks that they will always and forever be family even if they are no longer best friends.

He is loved, if only by her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There was a new recruit moving in, an off-season transfer. These transfers were getting rarer, and now they had become, once again, a subject of curiosity. The members of the Third greeted him with distant politeness. Some, when they heard he was coming from the Fourth, laughed to themselves, whispering behind his back that they didn’t need a weakling healer dragging them down. There existed a basic inequality between divisional duties that led to the varied, disjointed, and oftentimes vaguely hostile climate of the Gotei 13, and no divisions were immune.

The Third, especially since Captain Ichimaru had come to the helm, was widely noted for having a large stable of competent gentlemen, each with a half-hidden cruel streak. Captains tended to gather those of a similar or complementary nature around them, and Ichimaru was a natural attractant for pranksters and sarcastic snarkers. They flocked to him - the clowns, the surrealists, the skeptics. The outsiders looking in.

Once upon a time, Kira felt that he would have fit in. Now he did not.

Gin placed his slender hand on top of Kira’s to still their nervous movements. “Stop yer fiddlin’,” he whispered into Kira’s ear. “Ya have just as much right to be here as anyone.”

Kira nodded, feeling more relaxed, and his captain moved to sling an arm around his shoulders. He let himself be led to face the gathered division.


	8. Where There Is Honey

Captain Ichimaru’s hand on his back sent shivers down Kira’s spine. He had nearly forgotten how intoxicating it was to know he was serving under one of the men he most admired, and especially when that person was Ichimaru, whose every touch elicited a gut-twisting response. If it had been anyone else, Kira would have said that he was nervous out of embarrassment because it was too great of an honor to be given a personal tour by the captain himself. But it wasn’t just “anyone else”. It was Ichimaru Gin, and Kira didn’t know what to make of the situation. With Gin, it was embarrassing in a different way; it was embarrassing because of how much he wanted the teasing to mean something more than what it was.

Ichimaru guided him along until they reached the drilling grounds. They stopped in front of what appeared to Kira to be the entire division. Of course it couldn’t be... Kira was familiar with the workings of a division, and he knew It was too much of a hassle to run training programs for everyone at once. Rationally speaking, division members had to be put on a rotating schedule in order for everyone to get a little one-on-one training with the captain or his higher ranked officers.

Nervousness made the group appear larger. Kira swallowed down his social anxiety. Seeing the other members settle themselves into neat rows, Kira also moved to join them, but Ichimaru’s arm snaked around his waist and kept him there. He couldn’t move; he started to shake. And hundreds of pairs of eyes were trained on him, burying him under the weight of their expectations.

“This here’s Kira Izuru, and I’ve put ‘im down on the roster as a fourth seat.”

He immediately jolted. “What? Captain, when did you decide this? W-why didn’t you tell me?”

Kira’s palms began to sweat. The onlookers murmured amongst each other. Some sniggered at him, and he swore he saw someone push through to the front and proclaim them to be “fourth seat buddies”.

Ichimaru took it all in stride. “Well, ya didn’t want third, and ya didn’t want lieutenant, so’s I thought I wouldn’t ask ya anymore!”

The response was so flippant that Kira felt himself falling deeper into shock and losing his grip on the present. The murmuring grew louder. He felt light-headed. He couldn’t think clearly except to wonder why. Why had Ichimaru pulled him up here? Why was he being turned into a spectacle for the others to gawk at? Why?

“Ooh, look how red he’s turning! He’s so cute!” The bubbly young woman in the front row practically bounced in place as she gushed. Kira recognized her as his supposed ‘fourth seat buddy’. She smiled at him predatorily.

“Isn’t he?” Ichimaru stood behind Kira and reached around to pat the younger man’s cheeks. “Cutie pie here will be leadin’ today’s training!”

“Captain, it’s... It’s my first day!”

Ichimaru moved so that they were facing each other, the captain’s tall frame blocking Kira from sight. “I trust ya. I want ya to do this,” he said in a low voice. “You’re good enough, Izuru. You’re more’n enough. You’re perfect for this.”

Here, shadowed, Ichimaru cocked his head to the side and took the edge off his smile. And perhaps, if Kira thought his captain’s expression was almost as soft as his voice, perhaps it was but mere hallucination. Kira nodded anyway, because he needed this. This, the validation of his skills as a warrior, was what he had been craving.

When Captain Ichimaru stepped aside, the newest member of the Third Division had already steeled his face into cool concentration. The hundreds of eyes that were looking at him were under his command, and he met their gaze as well as he could. He moved his hand away from the sash and down to the hilt of his sword.

“Zanpakutou out!” He unsheathed Wabisuke, the blade slicing through air. “Mid-level stance!”

The rows of shinigami obeyed at once. They stepped together in formation and swung their blades at Kira’s call.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gin leaned back and surveyed the scene through half-lidded eyes. He took in Izuru’s form and footwork as he led the squad through their exercises. Taking in the elegant flow from defensive stances to offensive, from guarding low and attacking high, one couldn’t tell that Izuru had been off the battlefield for so long. As he thought, Izuru was perfect.

They began working on the more repetitive drills: a hundred horizontal slashes, a hundred vertical slashes, a hundred thrusts, a hundred blocks. As their captain, Gin should have stayed to observe the whole thing, but he trusted Izuru to do a good job. Izuru could stick up for himself, no matter how weak he seemed to the unobservant. Anyone who wanted to challenge him was in for a nasty surprise... The thought brought a smile to Gin’s face as he turned to leave, assured that all was well. For now, at least.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kira glanced around the emptying training ground, hoping that it didn’t make him look too nervous. He was trying to catch a glimpse of their captain, though he suspected that Ichimaru had already left.

“You’re not too shabby with a sword, man.”

Never one for being rude, Kira reluctantly brought his attention to the man currently speaking to him. It was a shorter man who had addressed him, with bright eyes and youthful features; his lips the type that naturally curled upwards at the ends in a permanently pleasant expression.

“Th-thank you...ah...” The face seemed familiar, but Kira struggled to pin down the name.

“Don’t remember, Kira-san? It’s me, Tsuchida.”

“Oh! Tsuchida-san from the Fifth, yes? I’m so sorry, I don’t know where my head went. And we were in the same division once, too.” Yes, Tsuchida, who had been a few years behind him at the academy, and whom Kira had somewhat envied for the easy way he made friends.

“No, it’s nothing. But hey, we’re in the same division again. It must be fate!”

“Yes, indeed.”

Tsuchida smiled shyly, his eyes darting glances at Kira. “I was kidding before. ‘Not too shabby’ doesn’t do you justice. This might sound stupid, but I’ve always admired your skills.” He sighed and looked down at his zanpakutou. “I could never get my movements to flow like that.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to in time,” Kira said. He hoped this was what he was supposed to say, though truthfully he had never been good at giving encouragement.

Tsuchida seemed to accept that, and offered to introduce Kira to some of his new friends. They walked across the grounds in companionable silence peppered with a few questions from Kira regarding the atmosphere of the division.

Tsuchida was safe; Tsuchida was familiar. They had never been especially close in the Fifth Division, nor did they avoid contact. Somehow, it seemed that they were perhaps too similar in personality, both too reserved, to seek each other out. It was the uncertainty of being in a new environment that gave Tsuchida the boost he needed to approach Kira. And that was precisely why Kira had, in the past, often mused that his life would be easier if only he were as attractive as Tsuchida. Neither was prone to making the first move, and yet it was always Tsuchida whose upbeat appearance drew in friends like flies to honey.

Kira nearly sighed at the thought of having to rely on his kouhai to help him make friends. He caught himself before he let out the exhalation, but Tsuchida seemed to pick up on it and extrapolated upon it in the wrong direction.

“Don’t worry about Miyama,” he said. “I struck a deal with the rest of the Estrogen Brigade. They’re watching over her so she doesn’t devour you.”

“Miyama? D-devour?” Kira had no idea how they had ended up on this topic. And who were they talking about, anyway?

“Eh, I dunno how to put this... Miyama Chieko, she, well, you know...”

Kira’s eyes widened in realization. “The one who...” He trailed off for lack of words.

“Yeah, that’s her. Your ‘fourth seat buddy’. And before you ask, the Estrogen Brigade is just what we call the women who’ve monopolized most of the third, fourth, and fifth seats.

“Are they so strong, the women of the Third Division?”

“Th-that’s... Sorry, we’ll have to continue this conversation later. My partner’s right over there. Hey, Kano!” Tsuchida waved to a spiky-haired young man flanked by two others. “Kano and I are going on patrol, so I’ll see you!”

Tsuchida latched on to his tall friend, Kano. Kano nodded to Kira and said, “These two are Aida and Inose.” He gestured to the others, the sharp-featured Aida and barrel-chested Inose. “They’re free today, so go ahead and ask them anything. See you around.”

With Tsuchida gone, Kira was once more surrounded by strangers.

“You got something to ask, newbie? So ask!” Aida crossed his arms over his chest. His smirking face resembled Captain Ichimaru’s in a way, though Aida had none of the mystery and made up for that lack with more outright cruelty.

“There is one thing that I’m curious about,” Kira said. “I was about to ask when Tsuchida left, but... Why are all the top seats women? Tsuchida seemed to imply that they are not the strongest in the division going by traditional measures.”

“Oh.” Aida and Inose looked at each other with uncomfortable grimaces until Inose sighed and took over the job of explaining. “They’re... Don’t mess with the girls, okay? They’re vicious. They’ll ply you with cookies until you tell them everything, and then they’ll blackmail you. I know; I fell for it.”

“Yeah. And they say the _men_ of the Third are cruel. Our women are worse.”

“They won their seats through strategy, then?” Kira asked.

“Uh... no, not really. The last time we shuffled ranks, Lieutenant Matsumoto of the Tenth had just stopped by for a visit,” Inose said. The large man unexpectedly flushed a dark red at the recollection of the buxom beauty of the Tenth, and he choked for a while before he could continue. “S-so yeah, Matsumoto came by and I guess she gave the captain ideas. The game turned into ‘Who has the biggest breasts?’ Most of the girls refused to participate and some threatened to file for sexual harassment... The ones who entered automatically got the top spots. That would be those creeps like the one you ran into.”

Kira felt his face twitch a bit at the confirmation of one of his greatest fears: that Ichimaru’s promotion had given him the freedom to be even more eccentric, and that he had Matsumoto’s encouragement to act on that eccentricity. Much as he loved working with Captain Ichimaru, there were drawbacks such as the pranks and the shamelessness. This, for example, sounded just like the type of thing Ichimaru would pull.

Aida’s snickering brought him out of his reverie. “Inose’s currently a fifth seat because he has moobs bigger than that chick Hamano.”

“Shut up! Hamano’s a two-by-four; of course any man with a little meat on his bones would have a chest bigger than hers!”

The game extended to men, too? Kira looked down at his flat chest and frowned. “Then why am I a fourth seat?”

“Metaphorical breasts, maybe. You _are_ kind of a pretty boy.”

Kira just frowned deeper. Aida was an ass.

“Don’t sweat it,” Inose said. “Everyone knows that our ranks are just this side of random, and they switch all the time following the results of whatever contest the captain has us doing that week, or even according to his mood. There’s no rhyme or reason to Captain Ichimaru’s system at this point, though he’s said that there will be a performance evaluation to determine our actual rankings later on.”

“Inose.” Aida snorted and reached to pinch Inose’s chest, but was slapped away. “You just don’t get it, do you? This _is_ the performance eval.”

“What do you mean?” Kira asked.

“Captain Ichimaru’s real sharp. He’s been shuffling us around to throw us off our game, yeah, but don’t you see? It’s all part of the test. He wants to see who can handle the higher ranking positions, so he swaps us in and out of them to find the best fit.” He turned to Inose and said, “Why the hell do you think Itou never vacates the third seat? Or why is Kano always switching between seventh and eighth? They’re set in place, but others aren’t decided yet.”

Inose was still skeptical. He gave Aida the raised eyebrow even as he brushed off another titty-twister attempt. “If he’s so sneaky, wouldn’t he also switch Itou and Kano more to throw us off his trail?”

“But he doesn’t care if we find out! This is Captain Ichimaru we’re talking about. You think he gives a fuck? I bet he’s counting on it, even.”

“Well, what’s the point in creating an elaborate scheme like this, then? The game ends for him if we tell everyone!”

Finally, they looked toward Kira for confirmation.

“What do you think, newbie?”

“Yeah, I hear you were close to our captain when you were in the Fifth.”

“I’m... inclined to agree with Aida-san. This method is consistent with what I know of Captain Ichimaru’s personality.” Kira drifted off in pensive thought. What was Captain Ichimaru playing at? Or was he playing for amusement alone?

Head in the clouds, Kira almost didn’t flinch at Inose’s sudden roar of pain. The large man slumped down, clutching at his injured nipple and cursing up a storm. Aida, cackling madly, had succeeded in bringing the victim to his knees.

Kira was halfway across the courtyard before Aida could finish saying, “You’re next, newbie.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“How goes the fortress buildin’?” Gin asked. His haori fluttered behind him as he gracefully slid into the last empty chair at the table. He glanced curiously at the centerpiece, a beautiful floral teapot, and then he shifted over for a look at Aizen’s dainty cup with its strange liquid concoction. “Bleh. Hope ya don’t mind me sayin’, but that tea looks unappetizin’.”

“Watch your tone,” Tousen snapped. He managed to send a glare Gin’s way despite his blindness.

“My ‘pologies if ya thought I was bein’ rude. S’just the way I speak, ain’t that right, Captain Aizen?”

Aizen smiled gently and, with graceful motions, moved to pour Gin a cup of tea. It was supposed to be tea, though to Gin it appeared as liquid diarrhea.

“A recipe from Lieutenant Sasakibe,” Aizen said, “who once braved the Tibetan mountains in winter. I asked him for an adventurous blend that curious thrillseekers would appreciate.” He threw Gin a pointed look.

Gin forced himself to return Aizen’s smile, and furthermore, to lift the disgusting sludge to his lips. It smelled horrible. And tasted worse. Gin swallowed his first gulp, and the overpowering flavor forced him to hide his discomfort behind a widened smile. “Mmm... oily! It’s so different! What’s the secret ingredient?”

Aizen chuckled and said, “Salted yak butter. I knew you would enjoy it once you gave it a try.”

Their third member, Tousen, stoically sipped at his own cup. He also clearly did not enjoy the rancid buttery taste, but was too proper to complain about it. Oh, Tousen... Such a stickler for rules! Gin wanted to bet that he would finish the cup because it was the polite thing to do when one was invited over for tea. He himself was debating between faking a stomachache or _accidentally_ knocking the entire pot over.

“Now, as to your first question, Gin, progress in Hueco Mundo has been steady...”

The bitterness of the tea held his throat closed. The slight tang of soured butter churned his stomach. Thick, slick, oily cream glued his mouth shut. Gin listened attentively, nodding at all the right moments. He smiled and pretended that he was glad to be here, away from his division and duties. But in reality, all he wanted was to go back to the place that was his, to the Third Division where he belonged. Back home, where they were waiting for him. Where his subordinates would miss him; would nag at him if he left them alone for too long. Even the bitterest of bile could be tempered by dreams of the sweetest honey.

This point went to Aizen, but the next would be his.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Captain Ichimaru had gone out for a walk, they said. He had the bad habit of disappearing at random, which had been obvious even when he was serving under Captain Aizen. Back then, of course, he’d been expected to be around whenever his captain might have duties to be assigned, and it had been easy to track him down by asking for Captain Aizen’s whereabouts.

Kira had wanted to check in with his captain about today’s performance, because even if Tsuchida had thought he’d done well, Kira wanted to be sure he met his captain’s expectations. Unfortunately, he would have to wait.

In the meantime, he headed back to the barracks to tidy up. His room had darkened with the setting sun. However, there was no need to light a lamp just yet, not when shafts of orange light still streamed in from the open window at an angle that cast everything in stark relief against its own shadows.

His uniforms were neatly folded, each article of clothing in its proper drawer. He wiped the smudge off the small mirror that hung on the wall by the dresser. Looking at his reflection, he noted that his bangs were much longer than he had intended to grow them. Kira had originally thought he would try a slightly longer hairstyle, something more fashionable. But then he had been transferred to the Fourth, and he hadn’t had the time or the energy for such frivolities because he was too busy being miserable. Now, the Kira in the mirror was different from what he remembered. His bangs, which had always fallen at an angle, drew a slash across one side of his face, ending in a sharp point below his chin. It was oddly angular, and...

Kira reached behind to tug at the shoulder-length blond strands. In a fit of spontaneity, he parted the hair at the nape and smiled at his reflection. It wasn’t the stylish cut he had been aiming for, but he decided that he liked this a lot more. Rather than being something out of a magazine, this look was his alone, and it meant something. It was a subtle showing of his newfound loyalty to the Third Division.

“I like it.”

“What?” Kira’s hand flew to Wabisuke’s hilt as he spun around to face the intruder.

“Ooh, nice reflexes! Great defensive stance ya got there, too!”

“Captain! Please don’t scare me like that...” Kira let go of his word and let out a sigh of relief. He had the nagging feeling that this was to become a common occurrence - Ichimaru popping into his room unannounced, that is.

Said man had settled himself in Kira’s chair as if he belonged there, his eyes raking across the books stacked neatly on the desk, taking in the titles. With one hand tucked under his chin, he traced over their spines until settling on a well-worn anthology. “I’ll have to borrow this from ya sometime.”

“Yes, of course, if you would like to...” Kira cleared his throat and said, “Now might not be the best time, but I did want to talk to you about today. If, ah, we could go to your office?”

“Why not stay here? ‘My place or yours’ only applies when we ain’t already someplace _private_.” Ichimaru’s hand left the book and reached out to stroke a slender finger against Kira’s arm instead.

“A-about today--”

“Let’s put it this way. Was it so horrible a task?”

“Well, no...”

“Good, good! Y’know, I always thought Izuru was great at that sorta thing. Abarai was always too intense for the less skilled fighters, and Hinamori too considerate and coddlin’ of ‘em. But Izuru bein’ so observant and all, y’always know exactly what they need to practice and how much they can take. I meant it when I said I trust ya.”

“Thank...you... I...” In the face of such a declaration, his thanks sounded hollow. “Captain Ichimaru, you don’t know how much it means to me that-- I mean, giving me this chance--”

“I’d rather talk ‘bout somethin’ else... Or better yet, let’s skip the talkin’, hmm?” He scooted closer, now on the edge of the seat.

“T-talk! Yes! We should perhaps... go for some tea!” Kira desperately blurted out.

“No thanks. I’ve had enough tea for a long while. But if ya asked, ‘Coffee, tea, or me?’ I’d be hard-pressed not to pick the third option.”

“Let’s... the bar... S-sake?”

“Tryin’ to get your captain drunk?”

“No!”

“Gonna take advantage of me when I’m vulnerable?”

“I would never--!”

Gin laughed at Kira’s expression and held up his hands to stave off the accusations. “I know, I know... I shouldn’t tease ya so much. How was your day? No one tried to pick on ya or anythin’, did they?”

The abrupt shift in tone knocked Kira for a loop, as it always did. But it also gave him a chance to recover from the flirtatious assault. He wondered if, lately, Captain Ichimaru’s flirting hadn’t become more direct? And rather than the usual scare tactics he used on people whom he thought were fun targets, this felt much more intimate and tailored just for his ‘sweet Izuru’.

It was terrifying to think that maybe Captain Ichimaru... Maybe Gin had picked up on how strongly Izuru felt about him, and in what way. Take your mind out of the gutter, he told himself. A normal conversation. Normal was good. And, thinking back on the day’s events, he answered Gin’s question with just the barest hint of sarcasm.

“Besides Aida-san trying to give me a titty twister? No, everything was fine.”

He’d said it in good humor, but Gin wasn’t smiling. His eyes opened, and they were that beautiful, mysterious, unreadable blue.

“Ah, no,” Kira said, backtracking, “Aida wasn’t picking on me, really! We were just fooling around, and he pinched Inose, but I got away and, um...”

Gin pushed up from the seat and stood at his full height. He loomed over the shorter man, cupping Kira’s cheek in his palm and trapping him against the wall. “I don’t know how to make this any clearer. Ya really have no idea what that does to me, do ya? You, bein’ so observant about everything ‘cept when I’m showin’ interest in ya, and usin’ those words, ‘foolin’ around’, when ya talkin’ ‘bout someone tryin’ to touch ya there...” Gin was leaning down, and his fingers, feather-light, just barely moving along Izuru’s jaw to tilt his chin up, and...

This time it was unstoppable. Their lips met.

There was a burst of sweetness so acute it sent a lightning racing down his spine. Izuru shivered in his captain’s hold, and still, that insouciant mouth and its wetness, its warmth... Eyes fluttering closed, he could do nothing but welcome it into himself.

Gin moved to stroke his fingertips over the curve of Izuru’s jaw, down his throat with its vibrations speaking wordlessly in time to the soft keening sounds that filled the air. Down, to the sensitive dip at the base of his neck. Down, and across the strong lines of Izuru’s collar bone.

Down, down, down. Gin let his clever hands over warm planes of muscle, silk over steel. He brushed over Izuru’s stomach and pressed teasingly through the fabric while moving back up. He slipped his hands within the folds of cloth and tugged them apart, just enough that they began to slip off Izuru’s shoulder, earning a small whimper from the man trapped beneath his searing kiss.

Their tongues swept across each other in a languid dance. Izuru was too far gone, pulled too deeply into the rhythm to notice when Gin slipped his hand under the shirt and began ghosting over his bare chest. All the sensations merely served to keep him trapped in this maze of desire.

“Ah!” Izuru gasped into their kiss.

Gin’s lips curled up in a smile even as they were still connected. Again, he flicked his fingers over the small nub that had been his target all along. It quickly hardened beneath his touch, and he took the opportunity to go further, lightly pinching and twisting the bit of flesh, wholly focused on wringing more delicious sounds out of Izuru.

“Aaah!” Shivering, lips tingling, Izuru broke apart from the kiss and rested his head against the wall for support, panting, catching his breath.

Relief was short-lived, as Gin planted kisses down the same path his fingers had taken before, and all the while, his hand continued its movements, circling and tweaking at Izuru’s nipple. He littered tiny, affectionate pecks all the way down Izuru’s jaw and to his throat. They stopped at his pulse, where Gin latched on with a sensuous suck, pulling the blood up to the surface.

“Nnnnn, Gin...”

It would leave a mark.

Gin reluctantly pulled away to survey his handiwork. Izuru, eyes opening but still glazed over, breath hitching, lips swollen, and that redness at his pale throat that would darken up beautifully. Izuru, beautiful when overwhelmed with pleasure.

He grinned. “How was that for nipple twistin’?”

Izuru’s senses were slow to return. They were too slow for him to attempt any sort of witty retort, but then again, Gin wasn’t expecting one. Gin, too, was breathing heavily, and his thin lips held a sheen that reminded Izuru all too much of their deep kiss and its lingering sweetness. And also how fitting it was that there had been a bit of astringency on Gin’s tongue, curiously bittersweet.

Gin wrapped his arms tighter around the other man, and rested their foreheads against each other. “I’m serious ‘bout ya, Izuru. Real serious.”

For some reason, the situation seemed funny when it shouldn’t be. There was a surreal quality in the air, as if in a dream. His fears had been laid to rest, and all he’d ever hoped for was there right in front of him.

And all Izuru could do was touch a hand to his lips and say, “You didn’t taste like persimmons.”

“Oh, that? It’s salted yak butter tea. Disgustin’ stuff, ain’t it?”

Their laughter was only slightly hysterical.


	9. Wonderland

Tall grasses swayed in the breeze, and the moon's reflection danced with the river. Small huts clustered together at the foot of the hills, beckoning weary travelers with the promise of simple living, good food and better company. It was beautiful over there - it always had been, but lately it had been becoming more so. It was starting to glow. The air... was alive. Tiny lights flashed all around, though whether they were fireflies or spirit particles, he couldn't tell. If only that were his... If only...

He longed for it. He ached for it.

But it was no use. As many times as he came here, it was always the same. No matter how he ran, he was never able to leave the edge of the forest. Here, in the damp forest where he stood, there was no such beauty. This land was shadowed; it was a place where danger was everywhere and nothing was as it seemed. In some areas, the ground itself seemed to twist as if the entire world existed on the surface of a wet rag being wrung out. There were things that looked near but were actually very far, and things that looked far but ended up behind after a few steps. There were poisonous-looking flowers underfoot, and creeping vines.

And vines growing quickly.

And vines growing matted.

And vines racing forth, exploding across the land as far as the eye could see. The vines snapped taut around his ankle, bringing him down. Down, on his knees. Green tendrils wound around his wrists, around his neck tight enough to make him wheeze, but not to choke. They braided themselves into a thick coil that draped over his shoulder and down his back. The forest grew to entrap him, and the knot of vines that lay at the crook of his neck, shaped like a snake's head, uncurled a little spiral tongue against his cheek, tasting him.

_Call my name._

The vines spoke to him, many voices as one. It was at once masculine and feminine, high and low. Soft, elegant, hoarse, brutal. It was the voice of those who had no voice of their own, an amalgamation of downtrodden spirits and their silent screams for vengeance.

"Hello, Shinsou."

The vines shifted and gave way to scales - no longer green, but pure white. The snake wound tighter around its master, elongating to form new coils around his limbs. Longer and longer it stretched, longer than any snake, longer than any two or three snakes. The entire forest was snake. Where the vines had been, all was snake. Shinsou looped and twisted around the trees as well before finally wrapping around to come face to face. The shape-shifting spirit flicked its tongue out at Gin's nose in greeting.

_Hello. It has been a while._

Gin grinned sheepishly at his zanpakutou. "Much as I love ya, Shinsou, it's gettin' hard to breathe. I'd be much obliged if ya'd let me go."

_I just wanted to give you a hug..._

Shinsou's hugs were _killer_ , pun intended. Reluctantly, the snake let go. Rather than uncoiling, Shinsou contracted until all the excess length was gone and the spirit was only wrapped twice around Gin's right arm, his sword arm.

"Thank ya. That's much better now."

Gin stood up again, idly stroking Shinsou as he returned to his previous position at the edge of the forest. With his zanpakutou by his side, he resumed gazing at the beautiful land that was forbidden to him. Shinsou turned to him with a small tilt that served as a puzzled expression.

_Do you still wish to go there? It is not real - you have said this._

"What I said was that nothin' here is real."

_Intangible things can still be real. I am real._

"This world is a part of me as much as you are. If you're real, then so's that place. It all means somethin'."

_So you have changed your mind and now believe that it is real, that you can go there, that you shall one day be able to step foot in that paradise. You believe this._

"It's real, insofar as it represents somethin' of mine. You're my power, this forest is my mind, and that place... Well, I've never understood because I've never been there. I've been thinkin', maybe it's a place that I ain't ever meant to go."

_I will tell you what it is. I will tell you why you cannot enter._

"Ho? What's this, a straight answer from Shinsou? Surprisingly helpful today, aren't we? And you're usually such a pain in the ass, too."

_I am you. I only tell you things that you already know. You have been wondering for a long time, and now you are beginning to understand. You already know this, but you do not want it to be true. I do not wish to serve a master who is a coward, so I will force you to acknowledge the truth._

"Bullshit."

_Snake shit. That place is your heart._

 

 

* * *

 

 

For a few days now, Kira had felt like he was being watched by the girls. He couldn't quite bring himself to say "the Estrogen Brigade", so to Kira they were just "the girls". It seemed as if they always had someone keeping an eye on him, though the reason for such was a mystery.

Kira's first meeting with third seat Itou had been uneventful. Though the rankings were a farce, he had insisted on becoming acquainted with his only other commanding officer in the division. Captain Ichimaru introduced them with a dismissive wave of his hand, which Itou did not seem to mind. To Kira, she appeared to be a competent woman; one who was tolerant or even encouraging of the Third Division's playfulness as long as they still got their work done on time, but was herself rarely given to emotional displays. She wore no makeup nor adornments of any kind, and kept her hair tied back in a simple ponytail. Her speech was very straightforward, or as Captain Ichimaru said, "the livin' personification of blunt force trauma". (Itou, in return, said that Ichimaru "put a scavenger hunt in every sentence.")

But Kira had become accustomed to rough mannerisms through his friendship with Abarai Renji, and so found that he rather liked direct people. Provided, of course, that they were not unnecessarily rude, which Itou was not. She had been curtly professional to him, but the way she teased their captain had been affectionate, almost chiding him in a motherly way. It reminded Kira of Captain Unohana, but younger and a lot less scary. Perhaps she was not 'motherly', then, but more like an exasperated sibling. Like Lieutenant Matsumoto? With less cleavage...

Kira had thought they would get along... but now she was stalking him. This was awkward. At least she was somewhat stealthier than fourth seat Miyama or sixth seat Hamano, he thought, but that wasn't saying much. It was no less disturbing to know that today it was Itou who was eyeing him from across the room. It was Itou, after all, who was the eldest among the girls and had the most influence over them. Very likely it was Itou who came up with the idea of stalking Kira in the first place, and he shuddered at the thought.

Pretending not to notice that he was being followed, Kira moved away from the crowded lounge and into the hallway. He picked up the pace, turned a few sharp corners, and... Instead of losing her, he suddenly sensed that he had gained yet more stalkers! They were closing in on him, cornering him like a pack of wolves slavering over a rabbit.

If there was to be a confrontation, Kira would prefer it to be on his terms. He knew just the place - a smaller room, quiet and out of the way, with only a few dusty bookshelves, a worn couch, and a half-dead plant sitting out its last days on top of a wobbling table with a bokuto strapped to it as a prosthetic leg. Kira swiftly entered the tiny library to his right, knowing that it was usually unoccupied, and set about pulling random books from the shelves and perusing their contents.

Three distinct spiritual signatures pulsed behind him, and then dimmed. The girls had followed him in. He didn't even know why they bothered trying to hide themselves when he could clearly see the tops of their heads peeking out from behind the couch...

"You think he has a girlfriend?" Miyama whispered. He could still hear her over the sound of rustling pages.

"Boyfriend," Itou corrected.

Kira twitched and nearly dropped the book he was pretending to read. Itou did not even whisper; she wasn't even trying!

"Ahh~ Haru-chan's been reading too much homo stuff again." This was Hamano Arisu, Kira deduced. He tried to focus on the tone of voice more than the content of their conversation.

"He's Captain Ichimaru's boyfriend." Itou was very certain. As an aside, she said to Hamano, "And don't say 'homo stuff'. That's a derogatory term, and frankly, it's offensive."

"Your homo stuff is offensive. Your homo conspiracy theories are offensive. You know, Haru-chan," Hamano said in a saccharine voice, "not everyone's gay if they have close friends of the same sex."

Itou was not buying it. "Didn't you see the touching? Platonic friends don't stand that close to each other."

At this point, Kira had dropped all pretenses of not having noticed them. He stood there, staring at the mess with mouth agape as they bickered among themselves while still crouching behind the battered sofa.

"How close?" Miyama asked. Her eyes gleamed in a lascivious manner.

Itou took in a deep breath and schooled her features. She reached into an inner pocket of her uniform and, throwing a wink in Kira's direction, pulled out two finger puppets in the likeness of himself and Captain Ichimaru. There was no mistaking it even if they were made out of felt. Ichimaru-puppet wore a tiny version of the captain's haori, and his eyes were happily arched lines. Kira-puppet wore a tiny worried frown and shared his real-life counterpart's distinctive hair.

Itou wiggled them teasingly. Her eyes twinkled mischievously even while the rest of her face remained impassive. " _This_ close!" she said, moving the puppets, one on each index finger, until they were pressed together side by side. "Then they made out like this!" She wound the finger puppets around each other.

Kira was horrified. His puppet self writhed scandalously before his very eyes, trapped in Ichimaru-puppet's lewd embrace.

"Itou-san! P-puppets... Why... H-how?"

"What? It's a woman's intuition." She looked him straight in the eye and pointed at her temple with the finger that still wore Ichimaru-puppet. "I just know these things."

"Intuition my ass! You spied on them!" Miyama huffed, snapping her fan open. With their cover undeniably broken, there was no need for her keep up pretenses. She plopped herself on the arm of the couch and crossed her legs, fanning herself in the image of a haughty empress. "You spied on them and you didn't even get me pictures!"

"I didn't see anything! The door was locked."

It meant that she had listened! "Y-y-you spied on us?"

Itou once again leveled him with her poker face. "It was hard not to. You were loud."

Inose was right! The women of the Third Division were extremely fearsome. Truly, he did not know what to say. There were many times in Kira's life that he felt like he'd fallen into a bizarro world, especially after making the acquaintance of one Ichimaru Gin. This was one of them.

"Don't worry," Itou said, holding up a hand. "I left before you guys got to the main course."

"No! Nonono, you're mistaken! There was no main course!" he said, flailing uselessly.

"Oh?" Miyama leaned in and put a hand on her chin. "Do tell... Did he leave you hard and aching? Did you fight over who would be on top? Did he-"

"Stop that, Chieko." It was Hamano, who stood to put a hand on Miyama's shoulder. "If you keep borrowing Haru-chan's homo porn, you'll grow a dick. You can borrow my porn instead."

Itou, having settled herself on the couch, poked her head in between the two. "Is it lesbian porn? If so, can I borrow some, too?"

"Shut up, you queer."

"Fine, be that way. I'll just get some from our captain. He's the source of it all anyway."

"Captain... source... porn..."

Kira's brain had been fried. He looked back and forth at the three women in front of him, hoping that one would burst out laughing and tell him it had all been a joke. None did so. But really, he told himself, the books they had recently imported from the Living World couldn't all have been erotica, could they? Captain Ichimaru couldn't really be at the center of the Third Division's porn trade, could he? Itou seemed serious about it, but then again, Kira had come to the belated realization that Itou was unusually skilled in pulling pranks with a straight face. He could only hope that she was joking.

It was Hamano who took pity on him and broke the silence. "Come, Estrogen Brigade! To Wonderland!"

"Yeah!" Miyama raised a fist to the rallying cry. She latched herself onto Kira's arm and dragged him along behind Hamano, leaving Itou to saunter slowly after them, bringing up the rear.

They were all smirks and knowing glances as they marched him to his doom. Kira was left with the sinking feeling that he had fallen neatly into their trap.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Shinsou's multitudinous voice rang through Gin's soul and echoed throughout.

_It is your heart._

"Why? How?"

_Why can you not enter your own heart, or why is it changing? How can you enter, or how is it that your heart came to be this way? Which do you mean to ask?_

"I dunno. All of it." He continued to stare at the silhouettes of paradise even while a numbness akin to cold dread settled in his chest.

Shinsou slithered higher up Gin's arm and lovingly, pityingly caressed his face with its own.

_Your heart takes this form because_

"That li'l village was where I was gonna live with my mother. But I never got there, so I keep chasin' it, and I put ev'rything I love over there to keep it away from me. To keep it safe."

_You cannot enter your own heart because_

"I don't love myself."

_It is changing because_

"It's growin'. New things're comin' in."

 _New people_ , Shinsou corrected. _You are never able to keep the gates closed for long. To all but your enemies and yourself, that is._

Gin frowned at Shinsou, but the snake lifted its nose in the air in reptilian snobbery.

_You suck at being evil._

"That hurts my feelin's! And I worked so hard at bein' a bastard..." Gin prodded Shinsou's head a few times, making the snake hiss in discomfort.

_So you admit that you have feelings._

"I don't lie to myself, if that's what ya implyin'. In my heart, all that I love, an' everything that's too good for me. That's what that li'l village represents."

_You see? I told you these were all things you already knew._

As Shinsou's voice faded, the zanpakutou melted into a clump of vines. It wilted, crumbling into a fine dust in Gin's hands along with the forest and the sparkling lands beyond.

In a flash, he returned to consciousness and was seated in a meditative pose on a sunny veranda overlooking one of the Third Division's courtyards. All was neat and orderly, with not one hint of of gravity wells or curved spaces where distance could not be judged. No, discord such as that lingered only in Gin's mind while his heart, his untouchable heart, had started to glow. The cause was obvious.

Gin dusted himself off and went inside with a smile and a hummed song upon his lips in stark contrast to the unease he felt inside.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Ahh~ Welcome to Wonderland," Hamano said. She burst through the doors with her arms flung wide open.

Wonderland was strange, but not exactly wonderful or wondrous or anything else that the name might imply. It looked suspiciously like an office. No, it was an office. The layout was exactly the same as the office that Kira had been assigned to, and it was even in the same wing of the administrative building, just one corridor down from the captain's quarters. The desk, the filing cabinets, and the windows were all the same.

What set this room apart from others was that there were splashes of paint all over the walls and a strange fixture taking up most of the free space in the center. Kira couldn't tell what it was supposed to be, though it looked like it was made from a gigantic patchwork quilt suspended from a clothesline that ran from wall to wall, bisecting the room. The ends of the quilt had been pulled apart and attached below, creating a triangular tent of sorts, and more blankets hung from the front and back like doors.

He was contemplating the blanket-tent when it began to rumble. Two girls popped out from the fort. They were the youngest so far, appearing in their early teens. One had glasses too large for her face and kept her hair in cute pigtails, and the other was boyish in appearance and scuffed up like she'd been in a fight. They waved to him shyly. Kira hesitatingly waved back at them with his free arm, and then turned to ask Miyama a question... But he couldn't get it out because she was still snuggling him. He turned to Itou instead.

"What room is this, exactly?" Kira asked.

"My office. Pancake-chest over there decided to take up interior decorating." Itou pointed to Hamano, who had taken to twirling about, gesturing to her colorful abstract creations upon the walls.

Hamano, having regained Kira's attention, twirled back over to him. "I'm Arisu," she said, introducing herself with a graceful, deep curtsy. "This is Chieko, our Queen of Hearts. The not-quite-twins, accident-prone-Rie and Fumi-the-geek. Or as I call them, Tweedledee and Tweedledum. And... that one. You can be the caterpillar or something." She dismissed Itou with a shooing gesture.

Itou rolled her eyes, but turned and nodded at Kira. "Call me Haru."

"It's your office, Haru-san?"

"Yes."

"Not Hamano's."

"No."

Kira was confused as to why she let her subordinates take over her office in such a way. His brows drew down in a worried frown, but Itou seemed amused at his predicament.

"Tea party!" Arisu cried from across the room.

"Yeah!" Miyama leapt up, finally letting go of Kira's arm to go chasing after her friend. "Let's use the new stuff! Good thing I hit up Captain Aizen last week - that man always has tea!"

Rie and Fumi pulled open the blanket-doors of their hideout and rushed to push tables and chairs inside. Touda Rie and Asahina Fumi, both currently fifth seats along with Inose, Kira's mind supplied.

Kira watched them bustle about in preparation, mildly impressed at the enthusiasm with the girls worked while the part of him that was still on duty lamented that the division would run so smoothly if only they put that much energy into their actual jobs.

Miyama bounded back to his side and guided him over to their tent, with Itou following. The girls had filled in from the back, leaving Kira to take the place closest to the entrance - perfect for making a quick getaway, if one was needed. Itou sidled up to him as they took their seats, and she spoke to him softly so as not to attract too much attention from the others.

"So. How are things going between you two?"

"I don't know what you mean," Kira said. He tried to keep a straight face.

"Well, he totally jumped you, right? That was my idea. I'm glad he finally decided to listen to the advice of his elders." She nodded to herself in satisfaction. "Now you have a date planned. Tell me you have a date planned or you're eloping or something."

"Umm... no."

"Tch! Indirect bastard. I bet he hasn't even told you how much he likes you."

"Ahh~ Haru-chan's turning everything into a homo drama again," Arisu said. She settled herself down daintily and began to pour tea into pink ceramic cups.

" _Haru-chan_ outranks you, now and always."

"Pulling rank is a move one makes when there has been a failure of cunning," she snapped back, her delicate features contorting into a vicious sneer.

Itou impassively looked her opponent up and down, purposely letting her eyes linger over the chest area. "It's not about rank. It's about you being flatter than Inose."

"Ooooh, burn~!" The peanut gallery chimed in as one much to Arisu's annoyance.

"Now, now... Haru's chest ain't nothin' to write home about, either. Accordin' to the rules, I woulda made ya my lieutenant if ya had lieutenant-sized knockers."

Kira froze at that unmistakable voice, and at the hand that laid across his shoulder. The other hand had grabbed onto Itou. Captain Ichimaru's head poked in between them, and he was grinning wildly.

Itou, unfazed, flicked their captain in the forehead. "According to the rules, which, need I remind you, Lieutenant Matsumoto made up while drunk, only Lieutenant Matsumoto has lieutenant-sized knockers."

"That's why she's a lieutenant!" he chirped. "Now, what's goin' on here? Were ya havin' a party that I wasn't invited to?"

"Captain!" Miyama raised her hand high in the air, bouncing in her seat. "We were getting to know Kira! He's adorable!" She clutched her hands to her chest and squealed.

"Ahh~ It's true. Kira-san is an interesting person, so we brought him here for a chat."

Rie and Fumi nodded vigorously.

With a smirk, Ichimaru turned to his third seat, who had not yet confirmed what the others were saying. "And you, Haru? Was that what you were doin' too?"

"No. I was harassing your boyfriend." The finger puppets reappeared and smooched.

Kira sighed and closed his eyes, having gotten used having his nerves frazzled. Suddenly, there was a gentle touch upon his lips and he gasped, eyes snapping open just as Captain Ichimaru pulled away. Gin's eyes were open just a bit, reflecting just a sliver of shining light like twin crescent moons, and when he breathed, the puff of air tickled Kira's lips.

"Aww~" The girls gathered around and cooed at their captain.

It was, to put it simply, disturbing. Especially in light of the unexpected display of affection Kira had just been given. Kira had never thought he would see the day when Captain Ichimaru, distrusted as he was by the majority of the Gotei 13, would be fawned over and his hair petted as if he were a harmless kitten.

"Ahh~ but he is a cat. I have decided he is," Arisu said. She turned her penetrating gaze at Kira, and he swore he caught a glimpse of unholy glee in her eyes. "He's the Cheshire Cat, to be precise." Then, to Ichimaru she said, "Captain, after extensive searching, we have found him at last! The White Rabbit! See! The way he twitches like a rabbit, and his... his... all of him! He is very rabbit-like. Very cute."

Captain Ichimaru merely laughed at her declaration. The girls continued to coo over him, and even Itou reached a hand over to ruffle his hair.

"Is your head lonely, Kira?" Miyama asked.

"What? N-no! I'm fine, really!"

"Can I pet you anyway?"

"Um, that doesn't sound right..."

The members of the Third Division were strange, very strange. (They were much like their captain in that way.) If one was having a good day, one could say there was an atmosphere of childlike wonder. To anyone else, it was a madhouse.

Kira was one of them and he felt, for the first time since his arrival, as if he had come home.


	10. Janus

It's not that Gin doesn't do his work - he merely enjoys giving the appearance of never working. This is to his benefit. Those who wish him well are more awed at his seemingly boundless natural talents if he remains mysterious. Does he copy Haru's answers? No, his grades are better than hers. Could he have copied someone else? No, his essays are always unique. It stumps them, how he always manages to turn his assignments in on time, papers neat and answers perfect, when no one ever sees him working.

When they ask Gin about it, he smiles knowingly until they go away more fearful of his prowess than when they came. If they ask Haru, she'll just shrug. They won't ask her because her bullied status and awkward demeanor makes them uncomfortable, but even if they do, she'll be of little help. Sure, Gin is aware that Haru has her theories about it. She probably suspects that he's actually studying when he randomly flips through his books; that he's only pretending to pretend to study. It's in the layers. And she just might be right, but Gin will never tell.

For those who wish to drag him down, Gin's perpetual relaxed attitude makes them think they can surpass him if only they try harder or discover some trick to make themselves stronger. And this... Oh, this! It's the absolute best, seeing the devastated looks on their faces as they realize they'll never be good enough if it's Gin they're comparing themselves to. Hatefully, gleefully, Gin covets and relishes that feeling, especially if his opponents are those nobles' children born with silver spoons rammed up their asses.

"Hey, hey! It's Okiku and the shrimp! Whattsamatta, ghost girl? Are you so ugly that your only hope of getting a boyfriend is with this prepubescent kid?"

It's the worst of them, Sawada, who throws the insults. He's a petty young man - haughty, spoiled, and yet insecure of himself (because truly, he is a talentless hack). Gin had long ago noticed that most bullies were cut from the same cloth. They had not the talent to reach the goals they aspired to, nor the humility to accept such limitations. The marriage of these ugly traits produced people like Sawada, who, when he could reach no higher, turned his attentions to keeping others down.

Haru hunches further down into herself as she skirts past the boys who taunt her. She's the one who has a grudge match coming up with Sawada, and if she's not about to put that plan into action, then they'll wait. Gin, too, pays the boys no mind. It's a common enough occurrence for them to be treated with such nastiness as soon as their teachers are no longer watching. And even though the rest of the academy has nothing against them, it's rare for anyone to approach them, let alone defend them.

They make an odd pair, Gin muses. Two sixth year students, nearly inseparable during class: one is a young woman, an early bloomer, tall and full-figured, and the other is but a thin slip of a boy who looks barely old enough for the academy. Shy, gloomy Haru always hiding behind her hair, and Gin, the fearless jester. That's the face they show to the world, and the way she tries to shrink behind him only makes her appear that much larger in comparison. It's comical.

But he supposes they work well enough together, and Gin has started feeling attached to his classmate - as much as he can, at any rate. His heart is rather small, so there isn't much room left for Haru since Rangiku holds most of it. It's like how he had been with his mother, who had monopolized his love when she had been alive - nothing could have overtaken her place, but there were times when Gin had felt a twinge of something as he fed the strays in the alley next to their crumbling residence. Haru is nice to him, and she needs him, and he likes being a protector.

That, and she also let him see her notes. With those, he has blackmail material on all the most important figures among the students and faculty. She uses him, and he uses her in return - a fine example of mutual parasitism. Gin doesn't doubt that she has more notes hidden away with the darkest secrets of those who have already graduated. He reminds himself to ask to see those later when the opportunity comes along.

Gin is a long-term thinker, and he always keeps his final goal in mind while working through the intermediate steps. Perhaps he doesn't need her notes in the strictest sense, but they've saved him a lot of muckraking on his own. He hasn't even joined the Gotei 13 yet, and already there is, at his fingertips, a whole network of people ready to be bought and sold. Such usefulness is Haru's most endearing quality. He'll miss plotting with her when they eventually part ways.

As soon as they are out of earshot, Gin turns to her and says, "They wouldn't call ya that if they saw ya without the hair-curtain. Why let 'em think you're ugly? Don't most girls like bein' seen as pretty?"

"I don't like them looking at me," she says. Haru pushes her hair aside and peeks out at him with dark eyes. "I don't want them to know how much I know. You hide for the same reason, don't you? Or should I say, 'Don't most people like getting compliments about their eyes'."

"Maybe."

"Your evasiveness is annoying, Gin."

"And if ya could lie to save your life, there wouldn't be a need for that ghost persona of yours."

Haru changes the subject with a shrug. "Are we going to partner up for the practical portion of the final?"

"Of course. Don't we always? Unless, that is, you're gonna chicken out on me?"

"Would it kill you to be direct for once?"

"Would it kill ya to have some subtlety for once?"

"I'm subtle enough when it matters."

"Ya just clam up and go ghost-mode, which is about as subtle as a brick to the head."

"Whatever. Keep me in the dark, then - see if I care." After a pause she says, "I don't mind getting my hands dirty as long as you keep up your end of the bargain."

Good. He's glad they have an understanding. Manipulation is so much better when the other party is a willing participant. Speaking of which...

"Hey, ya free tonight?"

Haru looks at him with a suspicious frown, but then she sighs in defeat. "Yeah, sure."

 

 -oOo-

 

The night is too warm for winter. Then again, Soul Society doesn't exactly obey the seasons. It's not a sphere like the Earth is, orbiting around a sun at variable distances. It's a realm where every object is made of spirit particles; where their shapes are nothing more than the collective hallucinations of millions of deceased beings.

With Haru in tow, he slips past the outer gates into Kuchiki territory. Someday, with logic and philosophy and things like that, Gin thinks he'll be able to lay the gods to rest, tear away the veil, and reveal Soul Society for the mass delusion it really is. But for now, skulking through the darkened paths, Gin can't help but marvel at the spirit-manipulating powers of the human mind, to be able to create the towering walls of Kuchiki manor just a few gardens away.

Haru tugs at his sleeve and hisses a warning, pointing to the guards coming up the path. "We're going to get caught."

"No, _you'll_ get caught, ya big lunk."

Gin pushes her out into the path of the patrolling sentries, who immediately shout for her to halt. They rush forth, and as she stumbles and stammers for an excuse, Gin makes his way deeper through the foliage and through a gap in the fence.

"Well, well. Looks like our tresspasser is just an Academy kid out after curfew."

"Weren't there two? I heard two voices."

"It's just me... and my finger puppets."

"Finger puppets?"

"I talk to them. Bad habit."

Gin snickers at her sorry cover-up. The voices fade into the distance as he slips into the manor proper.

His hatred for the high nobles' children is a matter of principle. Kuchiki Byakuya is different, though. Not that it doesn't feel good when he beats that little inbred ponce into the ground, but as Gin crouches in the shadows of the Kuchiki gardens, he can't help but think that Byakuya ain't as bad as the others. He's actually quite pitiful, with the way he's always being scolded by his clan elders for this or that - for having scuffed knees or failing to address someone with their full title and proper honorifics, even if that someone is his childhood playmate who ain't so keen on "proper" names herself. Byakuya's endless parade of shameful transgressions seems inherently silly to Gin, but they're supposedly of the utmost importance to Kuchiki family pride.

Gin feels sorry for the Kuchiki boy who doesn't want to be anyone's rival at all. (Except maybe that cat-girl's. He'd probably like to smack her down real good someday.) Not that Byakuya wasn't also born with a silver spoon up the ass like the others, but the poor guy keeps trying to remove it and they won't let him. He seems like he'd much rather run around and explore the world like other kids their age. But no, the Kuchiki family can't stand to have their most esteemed heir fall behind some trashy commoner spawn from outer Rukongai.

Byakuya is currently being scolded by his grandfather. This lecture, Gin is sure, is much like the ones he's overheard before.

_He entered the academy two years after you, blah blah. How could you let him get three years ahead, blah-dee-dah. You have no composure, blah-I'm-an-asshat-blah. You shame our clan, blah-I-live-off-my-own-flatulent-fumes. Blah blah blah._

When the old man is finished, Byakuya looks like he's about to burst into tears.

"Kuchiki-sama," Gin calls out.

Byakuya whips his head around so fast that his hair dances in the wind. He narrows his eyes at the intruder. "You. What do you want? Have you come to gloat?"

There's a distinctive wet sheen along the pretty boy's long eyelashes. Tears, Gin is pleased to note. He really was about to cry!

"Maybe I'm here to offer some encouragement. I'll be graduating next week, and it'll be sad t'leave ya behind. After all, a proper Shinigami can't have a student for a rival."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Shiba Kaien's death came as an absolute shock. The Thirteenth Division was devastated over the loss of both their third seat and lieutenant in such quick succession. Something like this... had never happened before. Something strange was going on. The Hollows were getting stronger.

Kira hadn't been close to Lieutenant Shiba. He hadn't spoken with the man personally outside of a few short greetings. In fact, despite how well-liked Lieutenant Shiba had been throughout the Gotei 13, Kira used to feel a sharp jolt of vicious pride whenever he was mentioned. Because to Kira, any praise directed at Lieutenant Shiba, famed child prodigy that he had been, was an indirect admission that Ichimaru was that much better.

It wasn't fair to Lieutenant Shiba, who was an admirable man in his own right, but that was just how Kira's loyalty worked. It was an ugly trait that he possessed, and one that he had wished to be rid of, this perversion of loyalty that led him to think terrible things of people whom he otherwise admired. What a monster he was inside, that something as beautiful as loyalty could be turned into a meanness of spirit when it touched him... Aida's jeers be damned, but Kira knew his own capacity for cruelty far outstripped most of the other members of their squad. With enough thought, he always came to the conclusion that this was what made him a perfect fit for the Third. This was why he could never be a healer no matter how skilled he became in the technical aspects of healing kido.

This was what Captain Ichimaru saw in him. The twisted loyalty, the stubbornness, the spitefulness, the ruthlessness. All this ugliness inside of him that he sought to hide; that he sought to keep buried so it wouldn't frighten off his friends. Captain Ichimaru brought this side of him out - cherished it, even - and Kira didn't know what to think of himself for that. Corrupted, perhaps, to have so easily fallen into the hands of a man with more secrets than he had hairs on his head. Relieved, perhaps, to have found someone who wanted all of him, the good and the bad.

Kira bit his lip nervously. He knew he was mumbling to himself, but he couldn't seem to help it. There was so much going on right now, from the mystery of the Hollows to his own personal situation. Captain Ichimaru had made it very clear - in full view of the girls, no less! - that he was staking a claim over Kira. In the romantic sense. But shortly thereafter, he had disappeared. And then he had become strangely cold, as if he regretted his earlier actions and wished to put distance between them.

"Kira-san?" Itou called from the side. "I know you're not scheduled to attend, but I'd like to invite you to observe today's training session."

"Oh, thank you."

"And afterwards, I've scheduled a patrol for you and Tsuchida."

"I thought Tsuchida was Kano's partner?"

"Screw Kano. He can have Inose."

"I hope you're not showing favoritism just because of my unorthodox relationship with our captain."

"That's not it," she was quick to correct. "It's a 'two birds' scenario. If Kano pairs with Inose, I get to stick Aida with anyone I want. The pervert said he would prefer a female partner. So. Aida-bastard gets to suffer Arisu's crazed lovesickness. Arisu gets to suffer the knowledge that the man she's been crushing on is a shallow bastard who makes fun of her flat chest."

"That's horrible," Kira said. He tried to feel appalled, but was unable to help the small quirk of amusement that lay on his lips.

"I know, isn't it? Ah, the things I do to strike fear in my subordinates by giving them exactly what they want... Their loss is your gain. I'd pair you with Togakushi if we were going by strength, but you get along well with Tsuchida, right?"

Kira shook his head. He wasn't sure he liked this turn of events. Because there was no telling what could be in store for him next if Itou turned out to be as mischievous as Gin, or if Gin was behind all this. Or what if this had something to do with Gin's recent detachment? He hoped not, but...

"It's nothing you should be concerned with," she said. "Some members of the division have been stepping out of line recently with rumors of the true ranking evaluations coming up soon. I'm just letting them know that they don't have what it takes to challenge me. And if they can't get past me, there's no way they'll get the captain's respect."

"If this is about rank, the opponent you should be most wary of is me," Kira said with a cocky grin.

Her revelation took his mind off his earlier musings. He was looking forward to the test as a chance to show off, and maybe knock Itou down a spot. Third seat didn't sound bad at all, and it was a position that Kira would love to hold - if only he did so by proving himself more worthy than any other competitor. He felt invigorated, like it was his Academy days all over again and he was clawing his way to the top of the class.

Itou gave him one of her small smiles and nodded appreciatively. "I know. I look forward to it."

 

 

* * *

 

 

They lie in wait for Hollows in the Living World. This is not a drill. This is not practice. It's the real thing that they're facing now during the final exam.

Shinigami, in groups of two or three, are given bait pellets and sent to dispatch one low-level Hollow each. Since they are still students, the group system provides a safety net in case someone picks a fight with the wrong Hollow.

The exam takes place in the dead of night to minimize possible obstructions from humans wandering the streets. Gin and Haru have set up camp in an inner-city park. They have trackers and radar. The other teams aren't too far away.

"Hurry up, Haru. I'm freezin' here!"

"Shut up," she hisses. Her eyes never leave the edge of the clearing where earlier they spotted the Hollow tracks. "Not everyone can finish their test within ten minutes of arrival."

"Yer so slooooow."

Haru's hands are wrapped around the hilt of her zanpakutou, rattling the steel with the force of their shaking. "I'm doing just fine, okay? We have all night for this, and it's not like anyone else has finished except for you- ah."

'Ah' is right. The Hollow they've been waiting for makes its appearance, sliming in through the bushes.

It's a giant snail.

"Hey, look. It's slow just like you."

Haru shoots him a glare which is ruined by the hair flopping all over her face. Flaring her reiatsu to attract its attention, she leaps into the clearing to engage the enemy.

The snail roars at the scent of fresh meat - something much stronger than the Pluses it had been feeding on. It stretches its neck out, reaching out for a bite. The grotesque masked head, jaw stretched wide, snaps at Haru just as she dodges to the side and brings her blade down. The first slash clangs against the shell as it turns to block. The second lands on its rubbery skin. The shallow cut spurts a mixture of blood and pus, sending the Hollow into a renewed frenzy.

"Keep dealin' with Snail-kun, 'kay?" Gin calls to her with his hands cupped around his mouth "I'll go ahead and start Plan B!"

"Hey, wait up!"

She turns around to shout for him to come back, but the Hollow slaps her down with a glob of slime. She rolls to avoid a smack-down by the heavy tail. By the time Haru is up on her feet again, Gin is already out of sight. And there's nothing left for her to do but grit her teeth, ignore the smell, and cut this Hollow down to size.

 

 -oOo-

 

Gin flash steps in the direction of Sawada's team. Hidden under his sleeves, he fingers the two unused pellets - his own and Haru's. It's low-grade bait for low-grade Hollows, but... For someone like Sawada, it's more than enough.

Gin lands on the shop awning above them just as one of Sawada's two teammates pushes his sword through the back of a Hollow's mask. The creature disappears in a spray of dust as it's forcefully laid to rest.

"Just you watch," Sawada boasts, "I'll bag one twice as big!"

"Ha ha. Get real."

Sawada chucks his bait down the street. Gin surreptitiously follows it up with two more.

The three boys on the street below proceed to whine that it's taking too long. They don't notice when the ground first starts rumbling. They don't notice until it's too late that this one is way out of their league.

"I got this," Sawada says. He saunters down toward the direction of the Hollow's presence. Sawada's zanpakutou is resting against his shoulder, not battle-ready in the least.

The Hollow stumbles out of an alleyway, sniffing at the air. As soon as it spots the group of Shinigami, it screeches. A high-pitched shriek like scratching glass, the sound tears across the space between them, sending a dust cloud lashing across their faces.

"Aaah!" Sawada drops his zanpakutou as he brings his arm up to block his eyes. In the next instant, the Hollow has leapt between him and the others. He falls on his ass, palms planting on concrete.

"Oh god, it's huge!"

"S-Sawada! Are you okay?"

The Hollow bellows again, whipping his masked head back and forth between the two sides as if contemplating which Shinigami to eat first. Then it pounds the ground with its spiked fists, sending another cloud of dust spiralling upward, concealing the view.

Gin hops down lightly, landing in a crouch next to Sawada. He extends his left hand out from under the oversized sleeve. Along with it comes a length of white cloth that swirls around the two of them.

"Sentan Hakuja."

The cloth coalesces at the center. With a 'pop', they teleport away from the chaos, and then they're dropped off at the park where this all started.

Sawada, teeth chattering, huddles in on himself as he curls up on the grass. "Is that you, Ichimaru? Is it gone? W-Where are we?"

Gin ignores his babbling in favor of searching out his partner. "Haru," he calls out in a sing-song voice, "I brought a present for ya~."

She's leaning for support against a nearby tree. Sword clutched in a death grip at her side. Panting somewhat heavily. Covered in blood and slime and nasty oozy bits. But she's alive, which is good. It would have been a waste to get Sawada otherwise.

Haru pushes the slime-coated hair out of her face. She laughs, a series of disturbing staccato chuckles, as she approaches the fearful Sawada.

"Nice catch."

"I broke his tracker on the way, and th'idiot dropped his own sword. I dunno why ya'd want such a pathetic weakling, though."

"It's personal," she says. There's an unholy gleam in her eyes now that they're visible. Gin has seen it before, but it's new for Sawada, who cringes.

"What the hell's going on! Y-you two are freaks!"

Haru appears perfectly calm as she staggers up to confront him. "The freaks are going to kill you."

"That's not funny, you crazy bitch! And you, midget - stop smiling!"

"Hold him, Gin."

Sawada squeals like a little piggy as Gin wrenches his arms behind his back. He could have used kido, but this is one of those times where he's feeling a bit old fashioned.

"I'm sorry for whatever I did, I'm sorry! L-L-Lemme go, okay?"

Haru unsheathes her blade again and brings the cutting edge up to Sawada's throat.

"It's a joke, right? I know you guys are practical jokers. Well, you got me good this time a-and just what the hell did I do to deserve this!"

"You know what you did."

_Slash!_

Sawada falls face-down, blood burbling up from the gash that cuts halfway through his neck. His face is set in an expression of shock.

_Plortch!_

With one more vicious strike for good measure, Haru impales him from the back, right through the heart. She slams through the downward strike with such violence that the blood spews and spatters with dull squishing sounds. The flecks splash against her cheek, mingling with the Hollow's remains.

And then it's over.

Sawada is dead. The spirit particles that made up his body float away, leaving nothing in the wake of the brutal murder.

Gin smiles through the whole ordeal. He scoffs as he recalls the look he'd seen on Sawada's face, and then he gets up and turns to Haru. "Welcome to the killers' club."

But the bloodlust has left her, and she is subdued once more.

"He knew what he did."

 

 

* * *

 

 

"What will you be having them do, Itou-san?" Kira glanced across the yard at the Shinigami doing their stretching and warm-ups. To his side was Itou, who was waiting for the stragglers to arrive before beginning today's training.

"Today is... Jinzen meditation."

Miyama Chieko immediately leapt to her feet, bright curls bouncing about her face. "Because you're a slacker! This way you won't have to do anything!"

"I'll be around to help you guys focus, check your posture and stuff."

"Oh, like that's so hard! Face it - you just didn't want to break a sweat!"

Kira had to admit that Miyama had a point. Itou, however, took it in stride.

"It's brain training. Improves mental control for kido spells. My sources tell me that Captain Ichimaru is planning to throw a Surprise Super-Fun Kido Day next week. He's looking forward to some big explosions since you've all gotten too used to having weeks upon weeks of swordsmanship lessons. You should thank me for the early warning."

Miyama rolled her eyes, but returned to her spot in formation.

Once everyone was seated and meditating, Itou shifted to a more secluded vantage point and motioned for her observer to follow.

"Kira."

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for having you come out here under false pretenses, but I wanted to speak with you." Her lips were set in a firm line, and her eyes narrowed as if deep in concentration. "Captain Ichimaru... has been strange."

"So you've noticed as well." He sighed in relief. "I thought it was just me that he was avoiding. Do you know why he's been this way? Could it have something to do with the recent tragedies that have struck the Thirteenth Division?"

"I don't know, I just know that this one's a fake."

"What, like a gigai with an artificial soul inside? I'll admit I've entertained the idea, but even Captain Ichimaru is allowed a few off days."

"I've known Gin for a long time, and there are things that only he knows about me, but this one doesn't know them. Try dropping hints to him regarding something only he knows about you and you'll see what I mean."

"How long... have you known him?"

"Since the academy. We graduated together, though I don't think he would consider me a friend."

Kira mulled it over and thought that this made sense. He had suspected that they held a deeper relationship than what appeared on the surface. There were shadows in their past, and secrets of the kind that Gin so rarely shared with others. It almost made him jealous, in a way, but he pushed those feelings back.

"I think he would," Kira said with a smile. "As would I."

She returned the smile, though Kira could see in her eyes that she didn't believe him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Haru falls onto the grass, exhausted. Hysterical laughter still bursts out of her lips sporadically. Gin flops onto the grass as well, and relaxes with his hands behind his head, gazing at the stars. They sprawl there in companionable silence until Gin's curiosity gets the better of him.

"Why'dja wanna kill 'im so bad?"

"For Nakamura Shin," she mumbles, speaking the name with sadness and reverence, "my childhood friend. I'm sure you've heard the rumors. He moved up into the advanced class before me, and he did everything he could to make friends with them. Especially Sawada. Shin-chan always had a bad habit of being attracted to the wrong people, and when that bastard found out about, you know, his preferences... They drove him to suicide."

"Ya loved him enough to kill for him."

"I... Yeah. I wouldn't have ever tried to get into the advanced class if it hadn't been to avenge him."

"And I know whatcha gonna say 'bout it bein' like the kind of love I should understand, but it ain't like that. Ya loved him in that way."

There's a pause as she tenses her shoulders.

"Maybe so," she finally says. "But he was gayer than a fruitcake. I guess if you're right... Does that mean I share his bad habit of liking the wrong people?" It's a shitty attempt to try to lighten the mood. Haru notices this and grimaces. She decides to speak simply and from the heart.

"Anyway, thanks for listening, Gin. You're a good friend."

Gin's menacing giggle ruins the comforting moment. "Ya sure know how to pick 'em," he says, propping himself up on an elbow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's funny you should think of me as a friend. I only ever thought of you as a great big tool."

"C'mon, be serious. I'm confessing my mushy feelings of epic friendship here."

"Oh, I'm very serious. But ya were quite th'entertainment. I guess I'll reward you with your life, hmm?"

He reaches out to stroke her arm in a sinister manner, sliding it up... up...

_Crunch!_

"Gah!" His spidery fingers have wrapped around her throat. "G-Gin... why..."

Her voice is raspy, but his grip isn't tight enough if she can still talk. He squeezes tighter, taking pleasure in the way the attempted words turn into whimpers.

Let go, she tries to tell him.

"Ah ah ah~" He wags his finger tauntingly. "On one condition."

 _Yes, anything!_ her eyes plead.

"Tomorrow we'll be full Shinigami. I'm joinin' up with the Fifth Division, and I want ya to promise me this one li'l thing."

Her whimpers grow weaker. The scent of despair grows stronger. He continues, intent on finishing what he started.

"I don't want you there. I'm tired of ya followin' me 'round. Never, ever step foot in the Fifth Division, ya hear me? Yer not allowed to talk to me as long as I'm there. I catch ya so much as lookin' my way and I'll kill ya." Gin punctuates his tersely spoken words with a shake, pushing her head further into the ground.

Haru is barely conscious at this point, but she nods.

"Pinky swear? Cross your heart and hope to die?"

She nods once more.

"Good."

And air enters her lungs.

He leaves her there, with her windpipe half-crushed, gasping and sobbing with tears soaking into the ground. It's a mournful sound that even Gin finds painful to listen to, the sound of his first betrayal.


	11. Ghosts of Old Kyoto

He’d put it off for far too long. Now that he was settled into the Third, there was no reason to avoid his old friends anymore. Kira huffed a sigh of relief as he thought of meeting them for drinks - something he hadn’t done at all during his stint in the Fourth.

His first thought was to see Hisagi, whom he’d grown closer to while his self-deprecation had pulled him away from Hinamori and Abarai. Hisagi was under consideration for a promotion to Lieutenant, though, and he seemed to have a lot on his mind. Kira told himself that he would congratulate his sempai along with everyone else when they held a promotion party for him. It wouldn’t do to bother him now.

Renji would be at the bar with his Eleventh Division friends. They were always there, so it would be easy to find them. Kira had passed them by many times, ignoring the raucous laughter, but tonight he would finally stop hiding.

As for Hinamori, she had never been one for drinking. Kira stopped by to see her on his way to the bar. She seemed happy; maybe happier than he’d ever seen her. And, maybe, he used to tease her about her crush on Captain Aizen because he’d been jealous. Renji used to say it was because he compared himself to Captain Aizen too much and, falling short of their captain’s talents, would become gloomy and pessimistic about his chances with Hinamori. Their backgrounds were similar enough - the Aizen family having not much more wealth or prestige than his own - and Kira’s accomplishments were comparable to what Captain Aizen’s had been at his age. Somehow, there was still no comparison. Kira had denied it, of course, but he knew that there had been moments where he had thought to himself that, if she would only look at him as a man, he would have courted her in earnest.

Hinamori brushed back some of her hair and smiled when she saw him approach. They chatted for a while, and she commented on how he was looking better these days.

“I could never work in the Fourth,” she said. “Being around sick people every day... It’s no wonder you looked like you had a permanent cold!”

“It builds up your immune system after a while.”

“How long is ‘a while’?”

Kira raised his gaze to the sky in contemplation. “...A while.”

She snorted and playfully punched him in the arm. The sibling-like gesture, like all those that had come before, cemented for him how she would always see him as a boy.

“It’s not the same without you and Renji around, but I’m glad you guys are okay. It’s nice knowing that you’re getting along with your new divisions.”

“Yeah. I’m happy for you, too.”

He left her blushing in the gardens of the Fifth, her eyes darting toward her captain’s quarters.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kira is in Abarai’s room, relaxing after a hard day’s work. Renji. _Renji_ ’s room.

Abarai-kun insists on being called Renji, “at least when we’re off duty”, and Kira is trying, really, but old habits are hard to break. It takes conscious effort for him, having been socialized as a noble, to let go of those mannerisms which are second nature. Eat, sleep, shit, honorifics. It will be some time before he can cuss out loud without feeling like he’s done something wrong.

Kira isn’t used to referring to his colleagues with their given names. No one had used Kira’s given name since he had come of age, and he often finds it difficult to return to the informal atmosphere that he hasn’t had since he was a small child. His remaining relatives have gradually distanced themselves with politeness. After Aunt Michiko’s passing, her children have come to take her lessons to heart. To his cousins he is no longer Izuru who once ran with them barefoot through the mud. More often than not, he’s the lord of the house who must be respected on the rare instances when he returns to the family grounds.

 _Danna, Danna_. They make him sound like a wealthy old patron, and themselves like geisha girls. (It’s ironic, Kira thinks, that his anxiety about the upcoming mission has him thinking of everything in terms of Kyoto and soft geisha accents and _Ichimaru Ichimaru Ichimaru_.)

So no one calls him Izuru save for Lieutenant Ichimaru, but even he had not been given permission. It’s just that Ichimaru, more often than not, does whatever he wants. This new assignment is no exception.

The Fifth Division has been assigned to the Kansai region. Ichimaru, in a bold move unusual for a lieutenant, takes charge of the Kyoto team right from the start. Protocol dictates that lieutenants and captains only descend to the Living World when the scouts send for them during an emergency. On top of that, for him to choose not even the largest city under the division’s jurisdiction, Osaka, strikes many as being beyond odd.

Surely one would think that more Shinigami are needed in the larger cities. It’s only common sense to assume that the number of deaths, and thus the number of earthbound spirits, is proportional to the overall population. But this simply isn’t so. As Ichimaru explained to the Captain Commander, Kyoto is “a special case”, and they make exceptions for special cases, don’t they? Like the Kanto region’s Karakura, a single mid-sized city that the Thirteenth Division patrols more religiously than it does Tokyo proper.

Of the entire Kansai region - no, of the whole of Japan, Kyoto runs neck and neck with Karakura as the most dangerous territory for Shinigami to be posted. Speaking of which, Ichimaru had also mentioned that Karakura could really do with a full-scale cleansing like they’re about to perform for Kyoto. But for some reason, that’s a no go. The Captain Commander won’t allow it, and he won’t allow for it to be brought up, as Ichimaru learned the hard way. So the lieutenant had shrugged and dropped that topic with a smile and, perhaps to make up for his earlier gaffe, put his own neck out on the line to take down Kyoto with barely any reinforcements.

The old capital is a hotbed of ghost sightings. Its numerous temples and ruins give an otherworldly feel to the place, or so the humans say. Kyoto remembers her past glories. The ghosts tend to linger; so much so that the air itself is awash with a layer of spirit particles almost as thick as that which blankets all of Soul Society. So much so that the barrier between worlds is paper-thin, like one could just reach out, pinching at nothing, and pluck a hole into the Dangai as simple as that.

Kyoto is magical, Ichimaru had said, and not in a particularly good way. Once, when he was a child, he had snuck his way into the palace looking for things to steal and wound up being chased around by a slew of hungry ghosts. (Nowadays, he had said as an aside to Kira, he knew they had been Pluses nearly hollowfied.) The imperial servants who found him huddling in the wine cellar had chuckled at his tale of a vengeful samurai spirit, blood dripping out of empty eye sockets to splash against the chain attached to a hole in its chest. And when the cooks and maids kindly shooed him out with a handful of stale rice balls, he could have sworn that the ghosts of fifty or so concubines, all with chains coming out of them that bound them to the palace, giggled into their sleeves and waved goodbye. He had been the first person in a long time who could see them.

Kira wonders if he’ll be able to meet those same ghosts, and he wonders if he’ll be the one to perform the soul burial on those pieces of Ichimaru’s past. His brows knit at the thought of the daunting task they have ahead of them. To make a long overdue clean sweep of the ancient capital, to eradicate centuries’ worth of spiritual stagnation...

“Yo, Kira. You gonna drink that or just nurse your cup all night?”

Kira brings his hooded eyes up to meet those of his best friend.

“Oh, I get it...” Renji obnoxiously jabs his finger onto Kira’s forehead. “You volunteered for this mission just so you could get some steamy alone time with our creepy-ass lieutenant.”

“I did no such thing.”

“Suuuure.”

“I distinctly remember asking if you wanted to come.”

“What, and spend a month camping with Ichimaru? No thanks, man.”

“I also asked Hinamori, figured she might find the atmosphere to be inspirational for her paintings...”

“But she’s too busy making googly eyes at Captain Aizen.”

“Exactly. You’re the ones ditching me.”

At this, Renji pauses. His lips purse as if he’s eaten something sour but can’t bring himself to spit it out. He sighs, resigned to some horrible fate, and turns to Kira with a disturbingly caring look in his eyes.

“Do you need a wingman that bad? ‘Cuz you know I’d do it for you even though I’m _hella_ freaked out by your taste in men. I mean, I thought you had it bad for Hinamori, but this...”

This makes Kira’s eye twitch, though he hopes it’s imperceptible in the dim lighting of the bar. He so dearly wants to make a sarcastic jab at Renji, but holds back at the last minute when his conscience rips him a new one about how his friend doesn’t need yet more grief about inappropriate attractions to midget girls and their stuffy brothers. (He’ll probably make that comment anyway, after a few more drinks.)

“Thanks, I guess, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Hold up,” Renji says before he slams back another drink. “I need to be more drunk for this conversation.” He refills his cup and downs it once more.

“What conversation? It’s just a mission.”

“No, not that. The ‘I-thought-you-had-a-thing-for-Hinamori-what-do-you-see-in-that-creeper’ conversation.” Renji closes his eyes for a bit, massages his temples, and says, “Yeah, about two more shots oughta do it.” He tosses back those two in quick succession while Kira gapes at him, completely at a loss for words. “Okay,” Renji continues, “The hell’s going on? Help me out here, ‘cuz I’m not seeing what Momo has in common with Ichimaru.”

Kira shrugs. “It’s a personality thing, and a mental connection thing. Somehow, it’s as if I become physically attracted to someone only after I’m mentally enamored of them.”

“Yeah, I can see that. It’s all deep and stuff. ‘Cuz you’re an egghead like that.”

“Ha, ha.”

“No, really. It’s cute. The sensitive-types would totally fall for that stuff if you told them. You’d have to beat them off with a stick if only you’d let people know how cute and shit you are, so why do you never tell them?”

 _I just told you_ , Kira thinks. He bites the inside of his cheek and refuses to admit that he used to almost sort of maybe have a thing for Renji way back in the day. Because Renji is kind of a big idiot. A loyal, lovable idiot, but still an idiot. Kira shakes his head and vows to drink until he can’t remember this embarrassment of a conversation anymore. He steals the sake bottle.

Chug, slam, chug. Over and over, he refills the cup just to suck it all down in a single gulp. Time jumbles around him until he can’t tell minutes from hours. There are moments of clarity interspersed with the buzzing and swirling and raucous laughter.

Somehow, they still end up back on the same topic - why can’t they just let it go! - but it’s funnier this time because Kira can’t quite make sense of what they’re saying.

“It’s not like he’s the only man I’ve been attracted to.”

“Aha! I knew you were staring at Hisagi’s ass!”

“Shut up! It’s a nice ass!”

Did those words come out of his mouth?

“Next you’ll be saying you used to have a thing for me!”

“You have a nice ass too!” Kira shouts as he trips over the table. While still sitting. He giggles at his amazing feat until the hiccups kick in.

Well, shit. There went his plan to never, ever tell Renji about that crush he used to have... Oh, double shit. He forgot to deny it to himself, too. Not that it matters, because if he’s hearing things right, Renji is saying, “Yanno who’s gotta niiiice ass?” And then they’re both squealing in girlish falsetto, “Oh, Aiiiizen-taichoooo~!” and laughing and snorting until liquor comes out their noses and they pass out.

Or Renji passes out - he has a higher tolerance, but he’s had more to drink.

“We’re such _dicks_ ,” Kira says. He giggles himself into a drunken stupor, vaguely amazed that he was able to bring himself to say the word ‘dick’ out loud. Then he promptly passes out, too.

 

 -oOo-

 

Kira shadows his lieutenant as they pass through into the living world. There’s an uneasiness stirring in his gut at the thought of the limits placed on Ichimaru’s powers. Usually he would be fine with that bit of regulation, but it’s too risky for this mission, he thinks. It’s almost as if someone’s trying to get _rid_ of them - or, well, get rid of Ichimaru, anyway, and Kira would just be one extra minion out of the picture and no big sweat either way - but that’s just paranoia, isn’t it?

Originally, the Head Captain had approved a mid-sized team of ten or so shinigami for the sweep, and only after a small scouting unit had been sent first. Now the scouts had been recalled, and the allowed team size decreased to a handful of volunteers at best. In reality, after Ichimaru further limited the volunteers to seated officers with demonstrated combat ability (and jokingly added “preferably with a death wish” to the sign-up sheet), it’s down to the two of them.

Not for the first time, Kira curses himself for not taking Abarai up on his “wingman” offer. He curses himself for not having the guts to beg and grovel at Hinamori’s feet and bribe her with pictures of topless Captain Aizen at the hotsprings. He wonders if, when he dies, Hisagi will know to publish his poetry posthumously.

“We ain’t goin’ to visit the poet’s house, if that’s why ya wanna come.”

“I wasn’t thinking of poetry at all!” He really wasn’t - he had been thinking mostly of being alone with Ichimaru and how he was going to die young - though the opportunity to make a pilgrimage to the place where the most venerated master of haiku wrote his saga is certainly appealing now that it came to mind.

“Sure, sure. Well, I might be persuaded to make a detour to snag some persimmons from the dead man’s tree.”

Kira’s lips immediately pucker at the remembrance of the taste. It _would_ be appealing if the place wasn’t blanketed with persimmon trees, he amends.

Sighing, Kira broaches the topic of his reservations. “Lieutenant Ichimaru, with how much they’ve cut the mission allowances but are still allowing us to continue, doesn’t this almost seem like it’s a --”

“Set up? Suicide mission?” Ichimaru’s grin stretches tight with a feral edge to it. “My, ya catch on quick.”

Oh.

Shit.

They are so doomed.

“Lieutenant,” Kira shakily begins. He clears his throat and tries again in a steadier voice. “Lieutenant Ichimaru, permission to speak freely?”

“Granted! S’just us here.”

“Pardon my language, sir, but who did you piss off this time?”

“Oh, no one in particular...”

“I suppose that’s everyone, then.”

“You wound me, Izuru. I’m sure it wasn’t more’n half of ‘em in Central 46, an’ Captain Kyoraku seemed to get a good laugh out of it.”

Kira’s shoulders slump, and he feels the overwhelming urge to hide his face in his palms. “Lieutenant,” he says mournfully, “you’re giving Captain Aizen a bad name.”

His lieutenant only grins. “Yer cute when ya go all mother hen on me. But no worries, we’re stronger’n they think.”

Rolling his eyes, Kira bites back the urge to ask the other man if he’s ever serious. If he also bites back a smile, it’s not something he’s willing to admit.

 

 -oOo-

 

Lieutenant Ichimaru has stationed himself in the very center of the maelstrom: the old palace. He stands up on the roof, sun glinting off his silver hair, and keeps watch for stray spirits wandering about. They aren’t very hard to find, given how Ichimaru had to cut a swath through hostile spirits just to get where he was. Ichimaru is constantly hopping down from his perch to perform a quick konso here or cut down a Hollow there. He’s surprisingly quick about it, and it’s a testament to his strength that he can continue to smile after so many consecutive battles.

Kira, meanwhile, scans the outer regions. He moves in a circular pattern, working inward. Where Ichimaru had taken the dangerous route and charged straight in, he’d ordered Kira to stay at the vanguard. At first there are few spirits, but it gets busier as he closes in on the center. It’s quick work for most of the Pluses. Some run, and some try to chat him up first, but it’s an easy konso for the majority.

Of the troublesome ones, the runners are better than the chatters. Kira isn’t a newbie by any means; he’s done his fair share of konso missions before, but he isn’t quite hardened enough to ignore the pleas of the spirits he’s sending off. When they chat, Kira is inclined to listen, and he’s inclined to help them find some semblance of peace before forcing them to move on.

Really, the mission isn’t as bad as he had feared. Not that there are less Hollows than expected or anything, but perhaps it’s just that Lieutenant Ichimaru is too strong to fall, even when he’s only at half power. Kira is proud of him. His reiatsu feels more and more like a captain’s these days, growing at a remarkable pace. Or maybe it’s always been this way, and Ichimaru is only now letting it out. _Surprise! I’ve had bankai since before I hit my first growth spurt!_ Something like that, maybe. Just one more secret; one more subversive layer to the man.

On the last night of the purge, when Kira is nearly at the palace grounds and Gin has taken to playing peek-a-boo with the last few Hollows, Kira encounters a woman.

She’s dressed as a courtesan and she sobs into her sleeves. And keeps sobbing. And keeps sobbing. There were a few other Pluses in the neighborhood, but they’ve since departed for Soul Society, courtesy of Wabisuke. Still the woman sobs, and Kira finds himself reluctant to approach her. He doesn’t know what to say to ease her pain, but he can’t just leave her there.

With a sigh, he rifles through his pockets for a handkerchief and goes to kneel down before her.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” he asks in healer’s tones.

The woman accepts the handkerchief and dabs away the tears. “Please, sir, Shinigami-han, I know what y’are. I-I want to go with you; I’m not runnin’!”

 _But_ , Kira thinks, there’s always a _but_. If there wasn’t, they’d have been able to reach Soul Society on their own.

“My son,” she sobs. “Please, ya have to save my son.”

It hurts, listening to her story. It bursts out of her like she hasn’t ever had anyone to listen to her. A hundred years she has spent scouring the streets for her lost son, who died with her, murdered beside her. Kira sits with her as she repeats again and again how she was a bad mother, how she should have made a better life for him, how he wouldn’t have had to steal if only she hadn’t been so weak-minded while she was alive… Her tears are endless, even as she tells him of happier times and how her boy was so clever and sweet, kindhearted, loving. There are shadows behind her words.

“What is it you’re afraid of, ma’am?” Kira feels like he’s on the verge of puzzling it out. “I might have sent your son on ahead of you. You’re the last Plus I can sense around… unless…”

“I’m afraid, what I’m most afraid of,” she whispers, “is that I’ve pushed my son to become a monster.”

“Hollow?”

She nods. “He was strong, and there was a darkness, such a darkness in his heart that I’d always pretended not to see! But he wasn’t bad,” she’s quick to amend, “He was always such a good boy, jus’ _ambitious_. An’ I know what that does to us ghosts, when we can’t get what we want, what we need. It’s ambition that eats at us ‘til we depair an’ turn into th’ empty ones.”

It took a while for her words to sink in. Kira wrestles with himself on what to do, but in the end he relents.

“All right. I shouldn’t be doing this, but… Well, do you think he’d be in the palace?”

“Yes, yes! I’ve always thought that’s why I couldn’t find ‘im, because he’d gone where I was too weak to follow. He loved sneaking into the palace, that boy.”

“That’s good. You see, ma’am, I’m not actually alone. I came with a… friend, who’s taking care of most of the Hollows. He should know if your son was among the ones he’s sent off.” Kira glances toward the palace to see if he can catch a glimpse of Ichimaru, but there’s no glint of silver. He frowns slightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you there. You’ll be safe with me.”

The woman smiles oh-so-widely; it’s beautiful. “Thank you so much!”

As he escorts her, they talk some more. Slyly, she pokes him about his “friend”, to which Kira says, flustered, “We’re really just friends!” Although… he may have gone off a bit on how his lieutenant is the best lieutenant and is just plain brilliant, a genius, tragically misunderstood, but absolutely someone to be admired! She just giggles, and it feels good to have someone to say this to who won’t look at him as if he’s gone crazy, speaking like that about Ichimaru.

The trip to the palace feels almost too short. The palace itself is too quiet. Kira extends his senses and feels… nothing. There’s nothing but Ichimaru lounging on a stone in the gardens.

“Izuru~ All the Hollows’re gone~ I’m so bored~”

“Yes, well, this lady here has a question for you…” When the Plus beside him did nothing but tremble, possibly due to Ichimaru’s reiatsu, Kira continued for her. “Ah, we’re looking for her son, who might have, you know, become Hollowfied, and we were wondering if… if you’d seen… him...”

Ichimaru is up, and he’s _staring_ at the woman with his eyes closed. He still smiles, and that’s just creepy, even on Kira’s desensitized scale. He’s giving her the full brunt of that intimidating grin. (Why would he threaten a civilian?) The woman, though, is staring back just as hard. Kira has never seen anyone do as she does. Trembling and tearing up, she meets him straight on.

“Ya really think yer son became a Hollow?”

“I… never dared… to hope otherwise…” Each word she chokes out is accompanied by a step toward the man before her, glowing silver and cold in the moonlight. When she reaches him, she has to crane her neck up to see his face. She touches his cheek, reverently, and Kira sees, really sees the similarity in facial structure just as she sighs, “Gin, my son.”

This, for Kira, is a moment he will never forget. It’s a one-of-a-kind event never to be repeated. The moment when Lieutenant Ichimaru melts before a civilian and allows her to take him into her arms.

He embraces her back. They murmur comforts and condolences, of which Kira hears only a few snatches. (“Ya joined the military? _Gin_ , I thought ya _hated_ the military!”)

“Ma,” Gin says after what feels like an age, “we need to send ya through.”

She nods in acceptance, but when he doesn’t let go of her, it’s Kira who makes the approach.

She whispers to Gin, “I still think ya’d make a pretty geiko.” Then, with a wink at Izuru, “Take care of him for me, will ya? Ya seem like the sensible type. This boy’s always bitin’ off more’n he can chew. I always said he’d need a sensible partner.”

“I’ll try, ma’am.” Wabisuke’s hilt is at her forehead. He presses down.

“See that ya do. An’ call me ‘ma’.”

It’s a regular konso. There’s a shimmer, and then she’s gone. It feels anticlimactic, somehow, but Kira is too emotionally burned out to care.

“Pfft. I think my mother just gave ya my hand in marriage. Wanna have yerself a geisha bride, hmm, _danna_?”

“Please don’t call me that. My cousins call me that. It’s disgusting.”

“ _Goshujin-sama~_ ”

“Oh, gross!”

There’s another mercurial shift in mood just as they feel the portal open. Gin stiffens and frowns. “Ya speak of this to no one,” he says, as if that’s even necessary. Gin of all people should know that Kira is on his side; even more so after all that they’ve just been through.

And again, just as suddenly, blowing hot and cold in the blink of an eye, he’s back to the carefully maintained irreverence of Lieutenant Ichimaru, the mask he wears for Soul Society. Ichimaru turns his back to Kira and starts walking, all flippant waves and predatory grace. “C’mon, then. Mission’s over. Pickup crew’s here.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

They hadn’t met up for a long while, but it was surprisingly easy to slip back into their old routine. Renji also had his own concerns, and so was distracted enough not to grill Kira on why he hadn’t been around lately.

Their conversation drifted to the topic that was on everyone’s mind.

“He’ll be born in Karakura, most likely. I read a study by the Twelfth Division that Shinigami souls tend to reincarnate near the place where they died. His last mission was to Karakura, wasn’t it?”

Renji grunted and shrugged. “I guess so. That’s the Thirteenth’s territory, ain’t it?”

“There’s no need to worry, then. Someone as strong as Lieutenant Shiba is bound to come back. He’ll be a Shinigami again before you know it.”

Even though Kira felt uneasy about the situation, he feigned confidence that everything would be all right. He had learned long ago that some things were dangerous to say aloud - things like one’s doubts about the fairness of the rulings of Central 46 or, well, things like The Wall.

If you said them, or hinted at them too often, you were marked. Soul Society had ears, and it was detrimental to a Shinigami’s career to be known as one who was disobedient or couldn’t keep his mouth shut. To be marked was to be cut off from the line of information. You wouldn’t know the latest political machinations until it was too late; wouldn’t know until the target was you. If you got on the wrong side of an ancient house, they had the power to strike your name from the record. They could make you disappear.

Things were different for those who weren’t nobles. They didn’t need to cultivate contacts or keep an eye on those hidden movements, and they certainly didn’t need to worry about being the cause of an entire clan’s downfall for having said the wrong thing at the wrong time. Kira wanted to protect Renji’s honest world where there was no possibility of foul play involved in Lieutenant Shiba’s death. At least until Renji made a name for himself as an upper seat and became a target of interest in the schemes of nobility, at least until then.

Lieutenant Shiba was a noble, though, and famous enough even without it. Even though his clan had been disgraced, had fallen. There was still the distinct possibility that someone _up there_ hadn’t liked him and his wife, and had therefore planned for them to meet their demise on a mission. “Dangers of the job” and all that. This, Kira knew from experience. (Bitterly, he kept those thoughts of Kyoto and meant-to-be-suicide missions to himself.)

“Yeah? You really think he’ll be back?”

“He should be... Unlike the way Hollows cannibalize each other and mix their souls, Shinigami souls are immortal.”

“That’s gonna be weird, if I suddenly meet up with some dude with the face of a dead guy I used to know.”

Kira nodded, and with a sly smirk, said, “He’ll be stealing Kuchiki-san’s attention away from you in no time.”

Renji growled and cuffed him on the back of the head, but that just sent him into a fit of laughter. His relationship with his friends was back to normal. Things were changing with Gin, and Kira wasn’t sure what effects this would have on the direction of his career, but... Yeah, life was good.


	12. An Unraveling

Gin lounged about in Aizen’s private quarters, idly flipping through an old issue of Seireitei Communication.  The magazine slipped from his hand as soon as he felt the familiar presence of his former captain.

Tousen turned to face the doorway as Aizen stepped in and seated himself.  “I trust all went well with my division?” he asked calmly.

“Perfectly.  Your subordinates behaved no differently than usual.  Unfortunately,” Aizen said, flicking his eyes in Gin’s direction, “things did not go so smoothly in the Third.”

“Oh?  I’m sorry to hear that, Captain Aizen.  They can be a rowdy bunch at times.”

“It was not the conduct of the ‘rowdy bunch’, as you say, but rather the perceptive nature of certain others that has invalidated the use of this method on your division.”

“Ah, the quiet ones!  S’always the quiet ones ya gotta watch out for.”

“Indeed.  I was surprised to find them so attuned to your erratic behavior.”

Gin took this to mean that Aizen was rattled at the thought that other people might know Gin better than Aizen did.  So many years spent under his tutelage, and yet Aizen had never managed to figure out all the nuances to his favored one.  It must bother him so.

To drive the knife in deeper and twist it, Gin said to Aizen tauntingly, “Maybe s’just Kyoka Suigetsu can’t imitate me well enough.  There’s more to a person than just appearances and mannerisms.”

If it bothered Aizen, he didn’t show it.  He only continued on in that slightly bemused tone he was so good at affecting.  “They said some very interesting things, your subordinates...”

“I’ll bet they did!  Didja like what I’ve done with li’l Kira-kun?”

Aizen paused to consider his response.  “It is acceptable.  I see you’ve begun a physical relationship in order to completely bind him to you.  An interesting maneuver, though it is perhaps a bit too cruel for my tastes.  You surprise me, Gin, with your willingness to hurt your favorite.”

Gin’s smile grew to grotesque proportions, and the slant of his eyes appeared violently mirthful as he played the part of the sexual sadist, quickly flicking his tongue over sharp teeth.  “He’s pretty when he cries.”

Tousen snorted his disgust.  “A subordinate is not a plaything.  There is no need to toy with him any more than is necessary to accomplish our mission.”

“Aww, but then it’d be as boring as how you deal with your lieutenant.”

“With respect?  It’s called professionalism.”

“Exactly.  It’s boring.”

“And your sexual depravity is the better choice?”  Tousen all but hissed in displeasure.  “You make me sick.  Why must you cause unnecessary harm to others for nothing more than your own perverse enjoyment?  Aizen’s path is the path of least bloodshed, and yet you who claim to believe in his vision have made a mockery of it by abusing your position of power.  Your conduct is far from the straight path of justice we swore to walk.”

Try as he might, Tousen’s lectures had no effect on Gin.  Tousen was an idiot.  His heart was so simple, so pure and direct and good, like a saint.  It was disgusting, how incorruptible he was.  So fiercely did he walk the straight and narrow that he could not be bent no matter how much force was placed upon him.  The strength of his moral convictions made him the perfect choice for Aizen’s plans, and Tousen was well aware of this.  Ah!  But there was irony in the fact that to be absolutely right meant being absolutely wrong in Tousen’s case.

If there was one thing Gin had learned from his duels with Shinsou in his inner world, it was that no matter how straight his sword was flying when it extended from his hand, it could still end up missing the mark if the space around it was bent.  This, Tousen did not understand.  He was too close to the center of the vortex and lacked the ability to distance himself.  That was exactly why Aizen’s ability to create distortions was most effective on him even though he was blind and thought himself the only one who could not be manipulated by Kyoka Suigetsu’s illusions.  He was a man forever trapped in the eye of the storm.

Straightness could not account for the gravitational pull of powerful beings such as Aizen.  Straightness was a weakness when the universe moved at god’s will.  From outside Aizen’s sphere of influence, anyone could see, like a mathematical diagram, Tousen’s straight path twisting and looping, tying itself in knots.

“I like bein’ bent,” Gin said, chuckling.  There was a reason Gin was Aizen’s greatest creation, and that was because he was the only one who knew how to counter the effects of Aizen’s distortions by creating distortions of his own.  Even Gin himself had had no idea he would become so twisted once he started walking the path of vengeance.

“Ichimaru...”  Tousen growled in warning.

“Enough,” Aizen said.  “Kaname, please give Gin the benefit of the doubt.  I trust he knows the limits of his playing around.”

“Absolutely!  You were sayin’, Captain Aizen?”

“Yes,” Aizen said.  His smile was strained; he adjusted his glasses.  “Concerning the reactions of your officers...  I believe we’ve spoken before about your third seat?”

“Itou?  I was right about the men listenin’ to her boobs.  Totally uncute, though.  But I guess some guys find the ice bitch types sexy, like Lieutenant Ise’s fanclub?  I told Itou to get glasses so we could send her to lure the naughty librarian fetishists away from the Eighth, but she wouldn’t listen to me.  I swear she got those contact lens things out of spite.”

By the time Gin finished with his tale of woe, Tousen’s teeth were grinding so hard that it was audible as he held himself from leaping to defend the honor of the damsels of the Third Division.

Aizen ignored Gin’s impropriety, continuing with his speech admirably well.  “I seem to recall that, during that conversation, I asked if you had been previously acquainted, to which you... never answered.”

“Huh.  Musta slipped my mind at the time.”

“And now?”

Gin’s mind raced to find an escape.  How much did Aizen know, he wondered.  How much of it had been planned?  Gin had been unable to determine whether Haru was unwittingly being manipulated by Aizen.  The possibility of her innocence weighed heavily on his mind, because if he were to give the truth of their past associations, she would be pulled in, meaning Gin would lose an ally.  He realized now how he had been overly cautious, testing the waters with her to see if she could be brought over to his side in the way that he was planning to do with Izuru.  He should have taken the initiative and approached her more aggressively, despite Aizen’s bluff.  And if she had turned out to be poisoned bait, he could have easily dumped her off.  Oh, perhaps not offed her, unless strictly necessary, but it might have been better to send her on an extended mission to the Living World, for example.

Or it might have been better if he had offed her the first time around.  It might have been better if he had offed her as soon as she came seeking him out.  If he’d done it right away, he could have said to Aizen, “An accident has befallen an old plaything of mine.  Tousen was right - I’m too rough on my toys.”  But that wasn’t how things had played out.  Selfishly, he had kept her by his side for his own gratification.

Gin cursed himself for being too soft.  He doubted that he would be able to steal her from Aizen if they were to vie for her affections now.  He wasn’t even sure he could have kept Izuru if Aizen hadn’t been the one to throw him away first.  Aizen knew how to be loved by others; he relished the power he had over their hearts.  Gin was too hesitant about love to ever be able to compete with that.

There was no way around it, Gin thought, but the situation could still be salvaged if he chose his words carefully.  Ambiguity was his most powerful weapon at the moment.  If Haru was Aizen’s unknowing pawn, or would be, Gin would appear not to notice.  If Haru was not, Gin would speak in such a way as to make her seem unworthy of Aizen’s attentions.

“Oh, sure,” he said.  “I knew Itou from the academy.  We used to pass notes and stuff in class.  Y’know, kid stuff.  Sorta drifted apart after graduation, though.  I didn’t see her at all until poof! she was there in my division.”

“Merely a casual acquaintance?  It worries me that Itou has been keeping such close watch on you that she was able to sense something inconsistent with my mimicry of your behavior.  Perhaps with more personalized attention, she could become something.  When we last discussed this, you dismissed her as ‘not that smart’.  If she is dangerous to you, that’s all the more reason to keep her close.  Kira we know well, but Itou is an unknown variable.  Will you not reconsider her as a choice for your lieutenant?”

It was beyond frustrating that Gin couldn’t see through Aizen’s plot right away.  Who was the man trying to flush out?  Or was he prodding at them to see which one Gin would rather protect?  Fishing for weaknesses again, was he?

Gin bit his lower lip, appearing to mull it over.  “I could...  Provided I still get to play with Kira on the side.  Can I?”

“Ichimaru!”

Aizen calmly waved Tousen back down.  “It’s quite all right.  Please, explain your reasoning to us if you disagree with my analysis.”

“I agree with ya, Captain Aizen.  Last time it was my pride gettin’ in the way, and I didn’t want to admit I might’ve made a mistake lettin’ Itou into the division so easily.  It was silly of me to forget how sharp she can be when she really tries.  As for lieutenant, either one would be all right.  I’d still prefer Kira since he has more potential, but Itou is more experienced.  She’s got a decent shikai, an’ the rowdy ones listen to her well enough.  Trouble is, she’s just about reached peak power, and it ain’t too impressive.  Everyone’ll think I picked her for her administrative skills only, and that would be very bad for my reputation, yeah?  I ain’t aimin’ to be the next Captain Kyoraku, thanks very much!  If I hafta, I’ll push her ‘til she’s ready, but she’ll never truly fight at a lieutenant’s level.  She was stuck in the Twelfth for too long and kinda stagnated there, stunted her growth and all that.”

“But you’ll take her?”

“I’ll take her.  Though I gotta say, bein’ stuck with a researcher-type won’t be as much fun as pushin’ Kira around.”

Aizen appeared to ponder this with a hand elegantly placed under his chin.  “I see.  Think on it some more, and I’ll trust your decision, Gin.” Then, taking in a breath, he addressed both of them. “Well, gentlemen, please feel free to return to your divisions to make your preparations.  Gin, be sure you’re prompt about applying for leave, won’t you?  I’d hate to have to make this trip without you.”

“So, who’s it we’re gonna visit again?”

“You know very well who it is, Gin.”

“Mah, humor me, then.”

“Barragan Luisenbarn, the self-styled King of Hueco Mundo.”

“Hmm…  Nah, he don’t sound too important.”

 

* * *

 

Haru paced in her darkened office.  The other officers had long since left the building, but she had stayed behind, claiming extra duties due to her rank.

Captain Ichimaru - the real Captain Ichimaru - had returned to duty today.  All he had done was take one look at her face and run his fingers across his lips.  Zip it.  Don’t even think about bringing it up.

His next action had been even more infuriating: applying for leave.  He’d just gotten back, though no one was supposed to know he’d left in the first place, and now he was taking a break?  What was going on?  Haru didn’t like it that she was now so out of the loop when it came to his plans.

Gin had gotten deep into something, Haru thought.  She had always known that he was up to no good - it was why she had approached him during their Academy days, after all - but something was different this time.

When they had first met, Haru honestly didn’t know what she had been expecting from him.  It was a last-ditch effort on her part.  In her hunger for vengeance, she plotted out scenario after scenario, all to no avail.  She had been weak, but how would someone like her go about gaining allies with power?  The strongest person she had known in her childhood was Shin, and he was dead.

The solution had been Gin, whose cleverness was frightening.  He was just frightening all around, and those who didn’t think so were just kidding themselves.  But somewhere along the way, as Gin turned his genius to helping her plot, and as she threw her all into giving him a boost on his way to the top, she thought they had connected.  There was still that spark in her of the stupidly loyal girl who had followed her best friend everywhere he went, even on his quest to become a Shinigami.  Even when she hadn’t wanted to be a Shinigami in the first place.

Gin had reawakened that part of her - the part that would follow her friend to the ends of the earth and beyond.  Then he crushed it just as swiftly, or so he thought.

It took a while for the hurt feelings to subside enough for her to analyze the logic behind Gin’s actions.  Gin’s words weren’t to be trusted at face-value, but there were truths to be coaxed from his lies.  The jabs he’d made of her only being a “tool” were just that - tiny pinpricks.  Tiny pinpricks when he could have chosen to run her through at any moment.  Why, then, would he have done such a thing?  He said it was for amusement, but that was also a front.  Gin only did things “for amusement” when it was to throw someone off his trail, to keep himself unpredictable.  And he’d been a kid then.  He hadn’t mastered the art of manipulation like he had now.  Haru, now that she could admit it, had been his practice run.  For what, she had no idea, and it was eating at her.

It was on her first day as a lab technician that she figured out a little part of it.  The former captain of the Twelfth, Urahara, stepped into an explosion in order to shield one of his subordinates.  And it dawned on her then that Gin’s goals, which he’d never fully disclosed, were much more dangerous than she had ever imagined.  And just like Urahara had wound up shoving the lab technician away, the action was, in the grand scheme of things, one of protection.

As soon as Gin was head of his own division, he had accepted her presence in his life again.  It wasn’t just Gin, then.  This was a bigger plot, something bigger than the both of them.

The scavenger hunt in his words led to the Fifth Division.  That was where she was stuck.

What happened after Gin graduated?  He made it into the Fifth, and then there was that debacle.  Haru remembered because Captain Urahara had gone missing by the end of it.  So many captains and lieutenants, all missing at once?  Gin must have been part of it, he must have--  But Captain Hirako had gone missing, too, so it wasn’t him.  Something else was wrong with the Fifth Division. Think outside the box, Haru!  She sat down at the desk and held her hands to her temples.

Something… something was wrong with…  Flashes of memory came to her.  Of their Academy days.  Of Gin standing in front of her.  He made himself her foil.  They thought him the mastermind when the real plot that year was Haru’s doing.  As she stood behind, feigning innocence…  Everyone always suspected Gin, and rightly so.  But no one had suspected Gin more than when he was held in contrast to someone like herself, whom others had thought incapable of deception.  Someone… like...

“Captain… Aizen?”


	13. Cat's Cradle

Kira entered the captain's office promptly after he received the summons. The sliding door to the captain's private courtyard was pulled open, and there sat Captain Ichimaru, sprawling half inside and half out, his legs dangling off the side of the narrow strip of deck and down to touch his toes to the grass. His arms, stretched high above his head, framed the rising sun between his fingers and trapped it, crisscrossed it with string.  
  
"Play with me."  
  
Gin tilted his head back as much as he could from where it lay on the tatami floor of his office. It came as a surprise to Kira how he had moved to stand by his captain unbidden; without even his own knowledge, he had made his way closer to this enigma of a man. There was a sourness in his belly at the thought of how deeply his captain had ensnared him, but he took the invitation for the gesture that he wanted it to be, and he sat beside the childish bastard despite the knowledge that this man would only burn him.  
  
Burn him if he was real, burn him if he was fake. Pinching the sides of the Cradle, Kira brought his fingers down and then up through the rest of the formation, making the Soldier's Bed.  
  
"Does the name Sawada ring a bell?"  
  
"What would y'know of Sawada? The bastard's long gone." Gin kept his eyes closed even as he languidly reached to slip his fingers in. Up, over, down and up again: Candles. Sensing Kira's ill mood, Gin nudged him with an elbow and a smirk. "What'll ya give me if I win?"  
  
"There's not much of a winner in cat's cradle."  
  
"Hmph. Don't be such a downer, Izuru."  
  
Kira ignored him in favor of continuing their game, mindlessly hooking his little fingers under the string and working them into a form he had memorized from his childhood. It had been a while since he had played the game with two people, but the forms in this game were much simpler than those of the single player variety, so Kira barely spared them a thought.  
  
"Sawada, huh," Gin finally said as he surveyed his next move. After a few false starts, he made a new shape. "How much did she tell you?"  
  
"Just that your imposter didn't recognize the name." As he spoke, without wasting any time, Kira plucked the string from Gin's fingers and gave it back more complicated than when he received it.  
  
Gin hemmed and hawed for a while before he made his move, and he did so with a flourish. "Yeah, well, my imposter probably believes you're as serious and dignified as ya present yourself t'be. He doesn't know your secret weakness for kiddy games like cat's cradle and bug racing."  
  
Kira's treatment of the string had been getting rougher as the game wore on and he lost his patience. When the opportunity came, he grabbed the strings in the center and pulled them out, crossing, rotating them in and out and under so fast that Gin sat up in astonishment and peered at the new string figure as if it held the secrets of the universe.  
  
"Game over. I win." If his response was brusque, that was to be expected. It was just this attitude of Gin's that Kira hated - this mask of mocking indifference that he put up whenever anything got serious, like he was incapable of letting anyone in. It made Kira feel like every time he broke down a barrier, a new one came up to take its place further down the road.  
  
Gin continued to poke and prod at the string until Kira threw it off to the side. "Don't bother. I made the Clock. That's endgame."  
  
"Thought ya said there wasn't a winner. Tha's sneaky, Izuru, real sneaky."  
  
Kira sighed through his nose and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Can't you just tell me what's going on?"  
  
"Curiosity killed the cat," Gin said.  
  
All this frustration was coming to a head, but because the melodious, playful tone of Gin's voice made his chest tight in stupid ways, instead of an explosion, it came out as a fizzle and he settled for pleading.  
  
"Is someone trying to take you out again? Tell me more so I can help. Please."  
  
Gin pushed Kira's hair back and brushed a thumb over his lips. "Keep an eye on things for me while I'm gone. Please."  
  
Bastard. He always won the games that mattered.

 

* * *

 

The streets of the 17th district of the Rukongai were worn, but still well-paved. The people went about on their day, and some bowed respectfully when they caught the eye of a Shinigami on patrol. Kira nodded back in acknowledgement while Tsuchida smiled and waved, especially to the children who dogged their heels.  
  
The kids kept back a ways, and sometimes they would peek at the Shinigami from around corners, but they were definitely following. There was an air of hero-worship that made Kira both flattered and uncomfortable.  
  
"Tsuchida."  
  
"Yeah?" He snapped back from where he had been making faces at a little girl. The girl scampered off back to her friends.  
  
"What do you make of the rumors that something is upsetting the balance between the worlds?"  
  
"Uh, there are rumors about that? I dunno what that's about. Maybe they're just overreacting."  
  
Tsuchida beamed his boyish grin and gently laid a hand on Kira's arm, perhaps in an attempt to sooth him. Kira, however, was not reassured.  
  
"I don't know," he said. "There might be something to them. It's almost like what happened a hundred years ago, when Hollow activity increased and people from the Rukongai started going missing en masse. We learned about it in the academy, remember? The Gotei 13 ended up losing nearly half the captains at once."  
  
Tsuchida looked to the sky and thought for a while. "I don't know either," he said, crossing his arms over the back of his head. "I just think, well, I'm a glass-half-full kind of guy. As far as anyone knows, it's just the result of natural fluctuations in the patterns of spirit particles. I know everyone's worried after the recent tragedy in the Thirteenth Division, but that's over and done with. If it was part of something bigger, the Head Commander would have sent out alerts, wouldn't he?"  
  
"Mm." Kira grudgingly agreed.  
  
"So there's nothing to get worked up about. Until we receive that alert, we go on treating it like a freak accident."  
  
"...Yeah, I guess you're right."  
  
They came to the end of the road without incident. It was a peaceful day, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. As they turned to head back into the Seireitei, Kira thought that he wanted Tsuchida to be correct in his predictions, but being that he was a glass-half-empty kind of guy, he just couldn't let it go at that. There was just… something. Something was off about the whole thing.  
  
Kira had read the report on the Hollow that killed Lieutenant Shiba. It wasn't like any other Hollow they had seen before. What did it mean, that it would appear here? Were there others like it?  
  
The two Shinigami made their way back in amiable silence. They passed through the gate and down familiar winding roads. When they neared the Fifth Division grounds, they shot each other knowing looks and made to cut across their former division.  
  
Kira, absorbed in his nostalgia, almost didn't see the familiar-looking figure as it ducked into one of the lesser used buildings.  
  
"Huh. Was that Itou-san? Going into the… Hmm…" His mind distantly supplied that the only place of note in that building was the records room, but Kira shrugged it off for now and continued on. It might not have been Itou-san at all. He was tired from patrol, and he would ask her later if she needed help.  
  
Tsuchida, though, stiffened and came to a stop.  
  
Kira had taken a few steps ahead when he noticed. He turned to regard his friend and broke the awkward atmosphere with the first thing that came to mind. "So, you're still joining us at the bar tonight?"  
  
"Sorry," he mumbled, "I just thought of something else I have to do."

 

* * *

  
  
Sand.  
  
Sand, sand, sand.  
  
Life gives you sand, you make sand angels.  
  
Gin chuckled to himself as he lay in the sand, admiring the moon and the endless night. He slowly, meticulously spread his limbs out wide and back in. And repeat. And repeat. Sand tickling his palms and getting stuck under clothes. And repeat. And repeat.  
  
"What are you doing, Ichimaru-san?"  
  
It was Luppi-kun, his favorite Arrancar, leaning over with his hands on his hips.  
  
"I'm makin' sand angels. You should try it. 'S fun."  
  
Luppi rolled his eyes and said, "No. It's not." But that didn't stop him from plopping down beside Gin anyway.  
  
This was why Luppi was his favorite. He was just this little octopus-thing that crawled out of the desert one day, just another Arrancar, and not even the strongest or the most cunning. His tentacles weren't even the most obscene. He was the only one who sassed back, though, and that made all the difference.  
  
Aizen was having another one of his private "chats" with Barragan, which really meant he was stealing Barragan's throne out from under his nose. (Gin liked to pretend to forget who the old man was every time Aizen announced a trip to Hueco Mundo. It fed Aizen's ego.) They'd fixed up the old man's castle into something much grander than it had ever been before, and there was a thriving population of Arrancar and other assorted creatures within.  
  
The ranks continued to swell. There were enough now for Tousen to have a full class when he started lecturing them on the finer points of virtue. Yup. A full class to stare at him with blank faces because virtue? For Hollows? Whoosh~ Over their heads.  
  
And that just brought Gin to his current predicament. They had a good thing going here. Las Noches took care of itself these days. If Aizen was gone, there was Barragan - the King of Hueco Mundo now reduced to Aizen's glorified errand boy - to run things in his absence. Gin wasn't a necessary component to any part of the day-to-day operations, and he whined as much to Luppi.  
  
"I don't see why I gotta be here. Th'only point to me bein' here is so Aizen-sama can have his posse behind 'im to scare you all into behaving. Ya think he's punishin' me? Did he not like his birthday present? I got him an ugly mug. Maybe he wanted an ugly sweater."  
  
"Your gift choices are appalling." Luppi scooped up some sand and flung it at him.  
  
"Luppi~ I'm serious. We had a good thing goin'. One where daddy Aizen-sama did all the important things by himself, and Tousen and I got to pop in once a decade or so and be the cool uncles to the kiddies. Well, I'm the cool uncle. Tousen's the stodgy one."  
  
Luppi smacked him with another handful of sand.  
  
"It's as you said; Aizen-sama needs you here to present a united force for us poor Hollows, especially with the way the numbers have been expanding as of late. Goodness knows what we'd do if we sensed any weakness! Why, the stupid brutes would tear your limbs off until you were but a head and a torso, and then where would that leave your sand angels?"  
  
Gin began to cackle in a way that made Luppi shift uncomfortably, but the Arrancar stayed where he was when others would have fled. "See, Luppi? This is why you're my favorite."

 

* * *

  
  
That morning, the Third Division's Captain Ichimaru Gin went on leave. He left without taking any of his possessions, and said he was headed to the far reaches of the Rukongai.  
  
In the early evening, after Kira finished his scheduled patrol route, he met with a few friends and acquaintances at a bar. Among those was Lieutenant Matsumoto, of whom he asked about his captain's whereabouts, and to which she replied that she didn't know anything for sure, but was almost certain he was making a trip to visit their old haunting grounds. Where else would he go, if not to the closest thing that passed for a hometown? She wished she'd had the chance to go with him, but all her vacation days had been used up - Captain Hitsugaya docked them for the times she slept the day away in his office.  
  
None of the Shinigami had noticed anything out of the ordinary that day, so it was unexpected when the first victim turned up in the Third Division that night.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kira made the mistake of busting out his mad ayatori (Japanese cat's cradle) skills for a Shinigami talent show one time, and it was definitely a mistake because Gin was there and Gin makes it his life's mission to have Kira indulge in stupid games that he secretly likes. Like, WTF Gin. Why you gotta ruin a man's reputation like that? 
> 
> And now random children come up to Kira sometimes and ask him to teach them. Gin is one of these children. His favorite figure is "gum", but he can't do it himself. When he tries, he gets his hands all knotted up with string, so he makes Kira do it for him. All. The. Damned. Time. And for like, forever.
> 
> "Can I stop now?"
> 
> "No."
> 
> "Please?"
> 
> "Gum~!"
> 
> Gin's so happy and shit and Kira's all gloomy and like *siiiiigh* "Gum~"
> 
> But he keeps doing it because he's a ~~masochist~~ sweet boyfriend like that.
> 
> (I headcanon this so hard, srsly. You can see some ayatori [here](http://youtu.be/2BkPk_pXq04).)


	14. Hunted

"That's five Shinigami missing in as many days. I don't think we can wait."

"True, Internal Affairs is notoriously slow on issues they don't have a vested interest in."

"Then you agree that we need to take action ourselves! And we need to keep this contained within the division."

"But… Is it still possible that they're deserters; that they spooked and fled after recent events? They _were_ all rookies."

"Yeah, they were. And if they'd wanted to run, the easiest way would be to make a break for it on a Rukongai or Living World patrol - just never come back. But they _didn't_. None of them were seen going out the gates. To my knowledge, none of them were seen _leaving the division_ on the nights they disappeared. Tell me you know of any rookies with that kind of _stealth_ , Kira."

He shook his bowed head. "Not outside the Onmitsukido, no." Kira continued to shake his head even as he looked up to face Itou. "But I also think it would be folly to issue any kind of alert before we have more of an idea what we're dealing with. If we move too fast, jump to conclusions, we run the risk of creating a panic which will hamper further investigations."

The matter was serious enough that they convened in Kira's office instead of Itou's. Here, there were no splatter-painted walls to distract from the matter at hand: five Shinigami had gone missing from the Third Division and Captain Ichimaru was unable to be contacted.

Itou was of the opinion, and Kira agreed, that whoever or whatever was behind the disappearances had been watching them for a good long while and had chosen to make their move when the division was at its weakest - when it was without a captain, without a lieutenant.

"Why are you so sure it's‒" Kira stopped, inclining his head to the door where he had heard a telltale shuffle.

Across from him, Itou had also frozen. In an instant, she had bolted up from her seat and raced to the door, flinging it open and nabbing whoever was on the other side before the eavesdropper could flee.

"Let go! I'm reporting this to the First Division!"

Kira made to close the door as Itou flung the intruder into the room. He made sure to first glance both ways down the halls for any others before turning back to the scene. When he did, he saw that their intruder was Hamano Arisu. Itou was staring down the slighter woman, who continued to shout.

"‒ought to be court martialed for not reporting this sooner!"

"Shut up for a sec and just‒"

"No, _you_ shut up! I don't know what kind of sick games you and Ichimaru have been playing, toying with the lives of everyone in this division‒!"

"Just fucking listen!" Itou grabbed Hamano by the collar. "That's exactly the reason we didn't tell you! This is the kind of panic we were trying to limit!"

"Well that's too bad, isn't it? I managed to get a Hell Butterfly out to the Captain Commander just before you found me."

For a brief second, it looked like Itou was about to hit the other woman, but she shoved her away instead. "Damn it! Now we'll have outsiders crawling up our ass about this, and do you have _any_ idea what they could do to Captain Ichimaru when he returns?"

"You're the one who has no idea," Arisu hissed. "Lives are at stake here and all you care about is keeping the captain's dirty secrets."

Kira had been standing by the door through the altercation. He stepped aside when Itou muttered, "Let her pass." His eyes narrowed, but he did as he was told.

As Hamano passed, she shot him a look laced with venom and muttered to him under her breath, "I thought _you_ at least would be better than this."

Once, perhaps, her words would have stung. The person Kira had become was one who was somewhat cold about such matters, and he barely spared a glance to her retreating form before returning his attentions to Itou and their plans regarding the inevitable crisis.

"She could have been bluffing about the Hell Butterfly."

"I know. It doesn't matter."

Kira nodded. It didn't, really. Word would have gotten out one way or another. They were woefully ill-prepared for the situation and had overlooked so many variables… One detail from their interrupted conversation was still bothering him, so he returned to it.

"Why are you so sure it's a Hollow?" he asked.

"I just… have a feeling about this."

Kira waited for her to say more, but Itou just sucked in a breath and held it. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides as if grasping for something just out of reach. Eventually, she graced him with a rare shy smile before it faded into impassivity.

"Walk with me," she said.

They departed for the main entrance before the summons came.

 

* * *

 

Gin is off his game; he has been since the Kyoto mission. Kira notices because he pays attention. (Definitely not in a desperate lovesick stalker move the way certain friends of his would say. He's just… naturally observant.)

He catches Gin's attention when they both have a day off and he asks, haltingly, stutteringly, if he could accompany Gin into town today in a totally-not-a-date way. It's just that he's noticed that Gin seems to be making these trips like clockwork lately - not that he means to pry!

Gin ruffles Kira's hair, the affectionate gesture making Kira feel like a little kid, and he says in that strange quiet way of his when he's being gentle, "Sure, come along if ya want. Just gonna visit my ma."

That's how Kira finds out where Gin's been going. The air somehow feels so much more solemn. They wind their way through the Rukongai together, speaking few words. When they do, it is quiet.

"I've always thought of you as an orphan," Kira says. "You were…" _The same as me_. "I was just wondering what it's like to have a mother as an adult. I can't imagine what it would be like if my parents saw how I turned out. Would they be proud or surprised, that's… It's what I've been thinking about lately."

"Is that all. That's all ya took away from our li'l adventure?"

"Well, no, but it's the most important."

"More important than the monsters tryin' to kill us?"

As far as Gin's teasing goes, today he's not up to par.

"Family's important," Kira reiterates. "We can't let the monsters take away our humanity."

Gin seems to accept that. He smiles. Of course, he's always smiling, and Kira is reminded of a saying about comedians, that the funniest people are the saddest inside; that comedy and tragedy are but two sides of the same coin.

_"Oideyasu, oideyasu‒"_

The woman welcoming customers to the inn speaks with the same soft Kyoto accent, perhaps a bit more pronounced than her son's. Her hair and clothes are as Kira remembers them when they met for the first time, though cleaned and groomed. For a moment, he wonders what it would be like to take her up on that offer and call her "ma" like she had asked.

To be family. They could be...

"Welcome, sirs," she greets. "Ichimaru-han, how nice t'see ya 'gain."

And he smiles. And he laughs. And he carries on being friendly and jovial when his own mother doesn't recognize him anymore. It's a horror show of the finest caliber.

Kira berates himself for having forgotten. Shinigami souls are eternal, they say, because they have more spiritual power than the average Plus, and with that power comes a certain amount of awareness. Most Shinigami, except those newly born in Soul Society, retain some memory of their past lives. But regular Pluses, they start to forget as soon as they arrive. They gather together in adoptive families because they remember what it was like to have a spouse or a child, but they forget the faces of those who used to fill those roles.

It's a sort of cleansing, or purification, to wash the soul clean before reincarnation, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less for those who remember.

The quiet conversation they had before is gone. On the way back, there is only silence on Kira's end. And Gin? His smile has regained its edge. He says only one thing for the rest of the night:

"Humanity? Ain't somethin' I've ever had."

 

* * *

 

They met the delegates of the First Division by the main entrance. The First Division members, led by Lieutenant Sasakibe, were all the very picture of military discipline as they stood at the ready. Arisu stood with them, and when her eyes met with Kira's and Haru's, she glared at them in defiance. On the other side of the gate, the gathered members of the Third appeared sloppy and disorganized, leaderless but for a Third Seat who had seemingly been placed there as a joke.

"Unfortunately, the Captain Commander could not be here himself, but he would like this matter settled as swiftly as possible," Sasakibe said. "As you are currently also without a lieutenant, I have been given special dispensation to take charge of the Third Division until your captain returns. Should you choose to accept these terms, my men will take care of the problem for you."

There was a muted outburst among the members of the Third as they heard this and processed the implications. Captain Yamamoto was engaged in other matters, probably involved in peacekeeping efforts between the Twelfth and Thirteenth as they worked together to investigate the recent murders and grew more and more frustrated with each other the longer they made no headway. Perhaps it was shortsighted of him that he did not put enough stock in another such potential outbreak in the Third to come himself, but in a way it was also a relief. They had been given a choice.

Autonomy or tyranny? It wasn't much of a choice at all. Even if the path of freedom was fraught with dangers, the members of the Third would never flourish under the strict rule of the First Division, not to mention how they would have to face Captain Ichimaru and tell him they keeled over without trying. Haru, who stood front and center, spoke for them on this matter.

"None shall have jurisdiction over another's division. This was the philosophy laid down at the founding of the Gotei 13. I was put in charge by Captain Ichimaru, and until he returns, I am in command of the Third. With all due respect, sir, this is _our_ fight."

Sasakibe accepted the decision with a curt nod. "So be it. Effective immediately, the Third Division is under quarantine. No one is to enter or leave without express permission."

With a wave of his arm, the two officers standing to his sides began chanting. The walls around the Third Division shimmered and glowed with kido.

"Wait!" Arisu cried. "I'm going in!"

The barrier had started to take form. Lieutenant Sasakibe's eyes widened and he tried to reason with her. "Think of what you're doing, Miss Hamano‒!" His words fell on deaf ears. Arisu made her charge, diving through, slipping in right before the translucent wall thickened to the point of impenetrability.

She was met with grim silence and distrusting glances on the other side. There was curiosity as well, from those who wished for her to explain herself.

"Look," she said, "we disagree on a lot of things, and I think it's wrong that you try to sweep Captain Ichimaru's mistakes under the rug, but that doesn't mean that I don't care about him or about this division. Faults and all, this is my home. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

 

* * *

 

“Family’s important,” Gin says mockingly. He goes back to the inn once every two weeks, like clockwork.

Kira wonders if it still counts as “family” if said family doesn’t remember being of any such relation.

Nonetheless, the two Shinigami become semi-regulars at the tea shop. Gin’s mother greets them warmly each time. Kira can’t help but keep watch on her expressions, to see if she shows any sign of recognition whatsoever. He watches Gin equally, silently urging him to explain the situation to her.

Then Kira comes to his senses and thinks, ‘what good would it do?’ None at all. She would feel guilt for forgetting her own child – who wouldn’t? – and perhaps she would even truly remember, only to forget again.

Gin watches his mother adopt another son. She says she kept feeling as if she used to be a mother. He congratulates her for filling that void. He watches her memories rearrange themselves so that she thinks she’s always been this child’s mother. He watches them be happy together.

“It’s a good thing, isn’t it, Izuru? This time she doesn’t have to worry about her son becoming a monster.”

He watches her live. He watches her die for the second time, weak spirit particles floating away, dispersing. He does it all with a smile.

Kira watches Gin with indescribable sorrow.

 

* * *

 

Itou took to command with the kind of reluctance that characterizes a leader who did not rise to the position with power in mind. She did her best to delegate responsibilities, but she couldn’t afford to weaken her own position while the division was in such a delicate state, and so was forced to be sterner, more absolute with her orders than usual. If Kira had not already held her in high regard, his opinion of her would have risen. As it was, he played makeshift second to her makeshift lead and thought to himself in the quiet moments that he would recommend her for a promotion to lieutenant once things went back to normal.

There weren’t many quiet moments. Normal was not so quick to return.

The first night of the quarantine, Third Seat Itou set just one decree: no Shinigami were to go anywhere alone, not even during the day. They were trapped here with a murderer, possibly a high-level Hollow, she said plainly. “Be on your guard. Watch each other’s backs.”

Groups were assembled; patrol schedules and routes established. Kira stayed with Itou in her office, their temporary command center. It was strange with the whimsical decorations torn down, but paint splatters still covering the walls. They listened to the others’ reports – nothing found, found nothing, nothing here either – pored over maps of the division, and re-drew countless routes. Nothing. The Hollow could not be drawn out that night nor the following day.

“Anything?” Haru asked when Chieko and Arisu came back in. It was evening of the second day of the quarantine, almost an entire 24 hours since the start. Tensions were rising, as were tempers.

Aida, who had just finished giving his report with Inose, barked out laugh. “Lemme guess: nothing!”

“Nothing!” Arisu spat out. She looked for a second as if she would throw her zanpakutou to the ground, then thought better of it. Arisu growled as she purposefully stalked to the couch, picked up a cushion, and dashed it to the hardwood floor with a soft, unsatisfactory ‘paff’.

Aida and Inose left the office, chuckling.

“So… nothing. That’s it for your report?”

“Absolutely!”

Chieko chimed in at that point. “I think we need to do something different. We’re too loud, you know? Seated officers patrol in pairs, but everyone else? We’re running around in groups of three to, I dunno, I’ve seen up to ten when two groups run into each other and team up.”

“That’s true,” Kira said, “though the point of this system is so the unseated officers will not run into the Hollow. They _must_ be loud and have a robust backup team so that the Hollow will be lured toward seated officers, of whom we are more certain will survive the encounter long enough to alert us.”

“Well, we’re still too loud! I don’t think this Hollow has ever gone after anyone who wasn’t truly alone! That’s probably its MO.”

“There… was a chance this would be the case,” Haru reluctantly admitted.

Arisu scoffed. She stood with her arms crossed while sneering down at Haru who was seated at the desk. Kira could sense they were about to fight again, and held himself at the ready to defuse the situation.

“You thought this might be the case from the very beginning, yet you didn’t tell anyone, just like you didn’t tell anyone about the Hollow that’s been slowly picking us off for days. And god knows how much else you’re hiding! What _the fuck_ are you and Ichimaru hiding? Why isn’t he here! I swear your secrets will get us all ki—!

“Stop it!”

Just as Kira was about to jump in, Chieko beat him to it. She tugged on her friend’s arm and said, softer this time, “Stop, okay? Now’s not the time.”

It was hard seeing Chieko so serious, such a far cry from her normally airheaded self. Kira was reminded that she was a soldier too, as they all were. He nodded to her in thanks.

“Back on topic,” Haru said, “I know you’re going to suggest setting up traps with lone Shinigami as bait. My answer is no.”

“What?!”

“Shush,” Chieko said, tugging Arisu’s arm once more.

“That’s a last resort, and we’re not so desperate yet,” Haru finished. She shot Kira a look, which he returned with a nod of encouragement. “Kira and I will personally take patrol tonight. We have more experience masking our reiatsu; perhaps we can lure it out.”

“And if you _die_?”

“Both of us? Well, then you either carry out the last resort or bunker down until reinforcements arrive from the First Division. Fight or hand over the reins. It’ll be your call.”

Arisu clenched her fists, but bit back her words until she had reached the door. “Don’t think for a sec this means I trust you or that I’ll ever trust you again. Either of you.” She directed the last barb at Kira. _How can you stand with those two scheming bastards?_

“That’s fine. I don’t need your trust, I just need you to obey orders.”

Even Kira cringed at Haru’s soft-spoken dismissal. Chieko looked back with hurt written plain on her face; she turned her head quickly, closing the door in a hurry.

Two spiritual signatures left down the hall, and all that was left was oppressive silence.


End file.
